


Tell me where it hurts

by Anna_Charmie



Series: The Charmie Decameron [5]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: A little angst, Armie is a doctor, Armie's POV mostly, M/M, Mention of Death, Mention of attempted suicide, Mention of blood, Period-Typical Homophobia, Timmy has a very bold haircut, bad rage management, mention of the F word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Charmie/pseuds/Anna_Charmie
Summary: In the last three years, doctor Hammer's life has been gray and empty like the sky above Dublin. Then one day -a very tough day- a skinny hurricane with a bold haircut and a lot of troubles storms into his life, turning it up and down, bringing back the colors.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: The Charmie Decameron [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010889
Comments: 201
Kudos: 152





	1. Dead people don't eat scones

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in Dublin in 1995, so there are maybe a couple of things to explain before you read:  
> Liffey is the river which cuts the city in two;  
> Garda is the Irish police;  
> scones are the typical Irish pastries;  
> punts were the Irish pounds (the official coin before the Euro);  
> Sorry if someone feels offended by the use of the "F" word, but it was 1995, so... sorry :)

Chapter 1: dead people don't eat scones

_Dublin, 1992_

At first, there had been rage. Cold, sharp, paralyzing rage. And it had taken all the space, crawling to any corner, filling the air, taking charge of every thought, every breath, every minute of his life.

His life without _her_.

When she got diagnosed with cancer, it was already too late: the fucker was at fourth stage, and had even bothered to grow metastasis into her whole body. Everything would have been useless: surgery, chemo, a trip to Lourdes... there was nothing to do, if not trying to ease her pain with drugs. And then more drugs, and more drugs. Until she had just given up on life and let herself go.

And then the rage had started. Because for fuck's sake, Armie was a doctor! A doctor with a double major in Immunology and Orthopedics. Four years of college, seven years of residency plus at least other five years of practice in various hospitals. He had seen all sort of things, all kind of terrible diseases; he had seen children and teenagers die, families break apart, parents leave this world too soon. And yet, with all his baggage of studies and experience, he hadn't been able to save his own wife from death. He couldn't save her, there was just nothing to do. And now he was 32 and a widower.

Despite his family and colleagues being wonderful after she died, trying to be close to him, never leaving him alone, bringing him food every day, making themselves useful, helping him with the house and the taxes and the dog (Archie, a.k.a. The dumbest dog ever), being careful with words, making him feel their love, just being there for him... despite all this, for which he was grateful, the rage had come, and he had decided to take some time for himself, far from the people he loved (or people in general), away from work, self-isolating so he didn't risk to hurt someone else. Because the only person he wanted to hurt was himself. He wanted the pain to stop; he wanted the desperation to come to an end. He wanted to close his eyes and being with her again.

So he had taken those famous four weeks holidays he was allowed to take every year, had packed his few stuff, and had temporarily moved into a cottage on the coast of Galway bay.

Being alone had helped him settling down a little: waking up before sunrise, going for a swim in the freezing cold water; going to the local market to buy fresh fish and vegetables, eating healthy; running or going for a walk on the coast after lunch, watching the sunset from the top of a cliff. He had started feeling like a human being again. The cold, clean air coming from the sea, the silence, the wild, untamed nature around him... everything had helped him regain control over his own life and emotions, and he had even managed to take all his rage and put it into a box on the bottom of his mind. Rage was useless. Rage was hurting him. He needed to be focused on the positive things in his life: his family, his dog, his job. There were so many lives to save out there! He was ready, he was looking forward to go back to his work and become someone else's hero, just for one day (to quote the song). Yes, he felt ready. Everything was going to be fine again.

And then, it happened.

A couple of days before he had to leave the cottage, he was enjoying the view from a short cliff on the bay: the sea was calm and silent, a dark blue that showed how the water was clean and deep; a couple of boats with fishermen coming back from a rough day in the wide open sea. Around him, only the soft sound of the wind moving the grass. Armie was so lost in his thoughts, lost in the beauty of the coast, he didn't even realize he was walking forward towards the edge of the cliff. Or maybe he _did_ realize, and walked forward on purpose. He will never know the truth about this episode of his life: the only thing he knew, a second later he was falling. He was fucking falling from a fucking cliff.

And the worst part of this story was that he didn't even care. He wanted to die. He was ready to welcome and embrace death. He thought that, sometimes, death is a blessing.

The cliff was short, so the fall was quick: Armie had closed his eyes and let his body softly being dragged down by gravity. He had expected to crush on the rocks and die immediately, his bones smashed and his brain scattered all around. Instead, he had fallen into the water, going straight under the surface with a loud _Splash!_

The water was cold, but he had become used to this, so the impact hadn't been so bad; the water had silenced everything around him and also everything _inside_ him, every thought, every noise, every memory. He had opened his eyes when his lungs had begun aching for oxygen, but he wasn't in panic, he wasn't scared, just annoyed that death was taking so long to come. He had looked into that deep blue, smiling, waiting for a mermaid to appear and kiss him and take him to her underwater world. How do mermaids breed? How do they even have sex? Where are their genitals? Do they have a mate for life or just fool around without any serious bond? Do they suffer when their mate die? Armie was starting being delirious because of the lack of oxygen... when suddenly he had felt two strong arms around him, and someone dragging him towards the surface of the water and then further, over a rigid, slippery surface. One of the fishermen's boat had rescued him, he knew it from the smell of fish and cheap beer. Five men were suddenly around him, talking with the most narrow Western Ireland accent he had ever heard. He had started to laugh frantically at the comic of the situation, and they had looked at him probably thinking he was crazy, regretting having saved him.

This happened three years before this story began.

\---

_Dublin, 1995_

_Monday_

The hospital is strangely silent, maybe because it's early, or maybe because nobody wants to spend their monday morning at the E.R.

Anyway, doctor Hammer is diligently checking on old medical records, drinking a soda and eating jelly gums (his healthy choices of food ended when he came back from Galway). Everybody knows which day is today, so everybody tries their best to leave him alone. They know today is the third anniversary of his wife's death, and probably Armie doesn't want to talk to anyone, doesn't want to burden anyone with his feelings. Three years are a long time, but not enough to avoid the wave of pain and memories, the good ones and the bad ones.

When his night shift is over, Armie goes to the staff changing room, takes off his uniform and puts on his jacket, gloves and scarf, then walks through the hallway and goes outside, breathing in the cold, crispy air of the morning. It's full winter and the sunrise comes late, about 7:30am, so it will take another half an hour for the sky to be fully bright and clear. Armie starts walking slowly across the road he knows by heart: he could literally walk from his house to the hospital blindfolded. He lazily looks at the houses, the different colors of the doors, the well kept gardens; he passes next to a small park, now empty, the grass cut short and tidy, some flowers stubbornly resistant to the cold. Armie feels stupidly jealous of those flowers, of their strength, their resilience.

When he reaches the Docklands, on the edge of the Liffey river, there are already people around, going to work (or going back home from work, in his case), running, walking dogs. He remembers he also has a dog to walk down when he goes home, and smiles. He didn't want a dog in the first place, but his wife had insisted for so long, talking about how much unconditional love a dog can give, that he couldn't say no. That's how they got Archie, the dumbest dog in the world, the only dog which could just roll over in front of a robber, asking for a belly rub. A totally useless dog, but at least very cute.

Armie walks on the side of the river for another twenty minutes before getting home: he is welcomed by Archie frantically moving his tail and trying to climb his legs, looking for cuddles. He laughs.

“Ok, ok, buddy. Let's go for a quick walk, daddy is wrecked” he says, searching for the leash.

\---

He wakes up about 5:00pm, feeling rested and hungry: he opens his pantry and finds it sadly empty, except for a can of beans which has probably been there since his graduation. He needs to go out for some grocery shopping. He whistles and Archie is immediately next to him, looking at his human with the awareness of being about to receive a treat if he behaves properly.

“Let's go buy some junk food, buddy” Armie says, patting the dog on his back while fastening the leash, “Maybe daddy will feel less sad in the company of _Madame Salmonella..._ ”

They go down the stairs and out in the cold, sunny day. Armie has usually two or three favorite places where he buys always the same food: he likes routine, it makes him feel more grounded to reality. He goes to the Indian take away, makes small talk with the boy at the till, places his order, waits, takes the bag full of food, says thank you, goes back to his walk. Next stop is his favorite bakery, _Mannings,_ on Thomas Street. Actually, it was his wife's favorite bakery, but which difference does it make now? It's not like she can go there anymore. Dead people don't eat scones.

Armie is standing in front of the bakery shop window, licking his lips while staring at the wonderful cakes and sweets and muffins displayed with care to attract costumers. He has Archie's leash in his left hand and the bag with the Indian food in his right one. Suddenly, he hears someone screaming and cursing a few meters far from him, on the left; he doesn't pay much attention, doesn't turn his head to see what's going on: it's the city center, there is always someone yelling in the middle of the street. He keeps watching the shop window until he feels something pulling at his right arm and squeezing, and immediately thinks that someone is trying to steal his bag of food: he turns his head and sees that next to him there is a person, a young person. A boy. Or at least that's what he looks like, because Armie doesn't really have the time to focus on him.

“Please, play along” he whispers, big green eyes begging for help. Armie is about to ask _What?,_ when a huge, intimidating guy who smells like he haven't been next to a soap bar for weeks approaches them, grunting for the effort of running.

“See, I told you my uncle was waiting for me here!” the boy chirps with more enthusiasm that he actually needs; he squeezes Armie's bicep and looks at him, eyes becoming even bigger. Archie barfs, excited by all these new friends.

Armie is more confused than ever: he frowns, staring at the mysterious boy who just called him _uncle._ His senses are all on alert: something is wrong here.

“And does this uncle have my money?” the huge guy grunts, clearly impatient. At the mention of money, Armie's hand instinctively flies on his back pocket, to check if his wallet is still there: this could be all a show set up to rob him, after all. These sort of things happen all the time in this part of the city. Anyway, the wallet is still there, and Armie can breath again. Maybe.

“No!” the boy yells, raising a hand to try to calm down the guy, “I mean, yes, the money is at my uncle's house, we were just going to fetch it. Right, uncle?” he turns to Armie again, raising his eyebrows, his face pale.

“Uhm, I...” Armie doesn't know how to disentangle himself from this situation. He looks around, hoping to see someone, maybe a Garda agent, but there are only kids and foreign students going back home after courses. His mouth is dry and he's sweating.

“Yes, he meant yes” the boy says. “I'll give you the money tomorrow, Pat, I promise” he begs the man, and it sounds like something he is used to do very often. The scary guy looks at Armie from head to toe, as to say _I know how you are now_ ; then he turns around and goes away, leaving the boy to the care of his uncle.

“Thank you, man” the boy exhales, leaving his savior's arm, ready to fly away from him. Armie, who is still figuring out what just happened, is not ready to let him go: he needs an explanation, a name, a reason. Anything. He grabs at the boy's wrist without any grace, not caring about hurting him. The boy looks confused and annoyed, but not scared.

“Woo, ehi, take it easy, bro” he says, making fun of the man who just saved his ass.

For the first time, Armie can focus on the details: he already noticed his green eyes, big and soulful; but now he clearly sees his nose, straight and perfectly shaped; his cheekbones, sharp and carved out of marble, just like his jaw; his lips, full and curved in a cheeky grin. But what amuses Armie the most, is the ridiculous, bold haircut the boy has: his hair is shaved at both sides, his small ears totally left exposed to the cold air, while a mohawk of black curls has been left at the center of his head, from the hairline to the nape of his neck. A single, wayward curl is hanging in the middle of the boy's forehead, just between his eyes. Armie can't help himself but chuckle. He lets the boy's wrist go.

“What's so funny, man?” the mysterious lad asks.

“Your haircut, _man_ ” Armie replies, trying to keep his dog's enthusiasm at bay. “Did anyone tell you the '80s are over?” he jokes, and the boy seems to get suddenly shy: he grins and looks at his feet, slips his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans, doesn't reply. They stay like this for a while, then Armie asks gravely:

“Was that guy a drug dealer?”

The boy raises his head, serious, almost feeling insulted.

“What? No, no, he isn't... I don't...” he rambles, then puts his words together, breathing out heavily: “He is my landlord. I owe him rent, but, you know, I'm kinda running out of money right now, so...” he shrugs, hands still in his pockets. He looks painfully young and Armie's chest aches just by looking at him.

“What's your name?” the older man asks.

“Uhm... Paul?” the lad answers, unsure. Armie smirks.

“What's your name, _Paul_?” he tries again, smelling bullshit from a mile away. The boy rolls his eyes dramatically.

“It's Timmy, ok?” he snorts. Armie nods, satisfied.

“Yeah, this name suits you better. I'm Armie” he introduces himself, then looks at the shop window and back to his new acquaintance. “You look like someone who needs some sugar in his blood” he states, noticing the boy's pale skin, “Do you mind if I buy you a slice of cake? You can take it home, if you don't want to sit inside” Armie offers him. Timmy seems doubtful.

“I don't know, man, this looks like a fancy place” he says, feeling small in his oversized black jacket (clearly coming from a charity shop).

“So? I'm a fancy person” Armie jokes, trying to make him smile, “And so are you. Come on” he invites the lad to follow him inside.

The shop is warm and not so busy, the smell of fresh baked pastries is almost overwhelming. The two men are seated on a table in the corner, one in front of the other, eating in silence; Archie is under the table, crouched on his human's feet. The bag of Indian food, now cold, is on a chair next to them.

They seem to be comfortable in each other's presence, even without feeling the urgent need to fill the silence with words: it seems like they reached an implicit agreement to not ask one another about the shit going on in their life. They just enjoy the amazing pastries and cakes they chose from the counter, together with the black coffee (for Armie) and the hot chocolate with marshmallows (for Timmy). However, Timmy couldn't avoid to notice the lady behind the counter greeting the other man as _Doctor Hammer_ when they got inside the shop, and now he feels curious and a little intimidated. He swallows a piece of almond cake and says:

“So, you are a doctor, uh? Cool!” Armie stops his fork half way, caught off guard by that sudden break of the silence. He smiles at the boy, feeling flattered.

“Yeah, I am a doctor. It's really cool, actually” he says, then asks “And you? What do you do? Are you in college or something?” he sounds genuinely interested. Timmy chuckles.

“Do I look like someone who has twenty-five thousands _punts_ to waste for a college?” he shakes his head and takes another bite of cake. Armie looks at him.

“I don't think education is a waste of money, but I'm not judging you. It's your life and you can choose to do what makes you happy” he sips some coffee, enjoying the warm liquid on his tongue. “So, what do you do to make a living?”

Timmy straightens his spine, clearly proud of himself.

“I'm a street artist” he declares, smiling broadly, “Have you seen the murals down at the harbor, with the Queen smoking a joint? Well, I made it” he says, self-assured. Armie wants to laugh, hard, but he would probably insult his new friend, so he grins and just says:

“Vandalize this already messed up city is not a job. I'm not surprised you can't even pay rent”

Timmy pouts theatrically.

“That's not true, and anyway, I'm going to borrow some money from a couple of friends of mine, and by tomorrow this mess will be fixed. I only need to find a telephone to call them, and maybe someone will offer me a couch to crash on for tonight, because if I go back to the apartment, Pat will cut my balls off!” the boy says, giggling, but the emotion doesn't reach his eyes. He looks worried, tired and terribly alone.

Armie feels the impulse to help this stranger kid, to protect him, and he doesn't even know why. Maybe it's a sign that he met him exactly the day of his wife's death anniversary: maybe she sent the boy to him to give him a reason to keep living, a reason to wake up in the morning, besides his job. Maybe there is a hidden meaning behind their meeting, a way they can help each other, a sign of fate. Armie doesn't even believe in this kind of things, but there are so many coincidences going on right now... he finds himself speaking before he can ever realize what he's doing.

“I have a telephone home” he offers to the young man “And I have a couch you can crash on, if you want”

Timmy's gaze changes suddenly, and he looks at the man in front of him with awareness.

“Yeah, sure, I mean... I suppose you're expecting me to be thankful for all this kindness” he says, glancing at the older man from top to bottom, a mischievous light in his eyes.

Armie is honestly confused at first: what does he mean with _being thankful_? Why should he feel thankful? And for what? And what does this have to do with his offer to sleep on his... wait a minute.

“No!” he yells, raising his hands and showing his palms to Timmy, as trying to stop his train of thoughts. “No, wait, no no no, I didn't mean... I don't want to...” he rambles, his cheeks on fire, totally uncomfortable, “I'm sorry if I made you think that I... I am not...”

“... a _fag_?” Timmy finishes the sentence for him. Armie clears his throat.

“Please don't use that word, is deeply offensive”

Timmy laughs.

“Why should you feel offended by a word? You just said you are not a fag”

“I am not” Armie confirms, “But I know people that are _queer,_ people that work with me. Some of them have lost their mates because of the AIDS plague, and it's not funny, at all. I assure you” the doctor says, gravely. These are things they can not joke about.

Timmy looks at him, equally serious.

“So it's not a problem for you that I am” he comes out to the man, expecting him to change his mind and withdraw his offer; but Armie relaxes his shoulders and reassures the boy:

“That's exclusively your business, not mine. Nobody should tell you what you can or can't do with your body”

Timmy stares at him like he just grew up a pair of horns and a tail, then he lowers his gaze, takes a huge piece of cake on his fork and stuffs it into his mouth. His cheeks are so full that he looks like a squirrel trying to carry too many hazelnuts. Armie bursts in laugh.

“Ehi, take is easy, Paul” he jokes, and the boy laughs too, despite his mouth being full of cake.

\---


	2. Doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get to know each other a little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people! Thank you thank you thank you for reading and leaving such wonderful comments! I have sooo many things to put in this story, I literally don't know where to start! In the meantime, here is a tiny chapter with our boys having dinner and talking about silly stuff :)

Chapter 2: Doc

“Wow, man, this is definitely a place I would call _home_ ” Timmy looks around in Armie's house like he was admiring the Sistine chapel. The place is not big, or fancy, or full of expensive furniture and stuff, but it's a nice house indeed: a cozy living room with a red couch and a little fireplace (which hasn't been used since... well, since Armie has stopped caring about feeling cold); a kitchen with a four doors pantry, a huge fridge (one of those new ones which produces ice cubes) and a table with six chairs around; a guest bathroom downstairs, a bigger bathroom upstairs, with a large shower box; the master bedroom, where Armie sleeps, and another smaller bedroom, which is now used as a storage room. It should have been the children's room, but the children never came, so...

Timmy keeps frantically going around, looking at the pictures, the collection of vinyl records, the books, the many VHS that occupy a full shelf, because Armie has a passion for movies, especially action movies and sci-fi. Archie follows the boy cheerfully, trying to draw his attention in order to receive some extra cuddles before dinner. Armie goes straight to the kitchen, to put the Indian food into the fridge: they will eat it for dinner later. He fills the kettle with water and put it on the stove, then opens one of the kitchen doors and takes out seven different types of teas, plus sugar, honey and the milk from the fridge (he doesn't know how Timmy prefers his tea, so just decides to give him as more options as he can). He retrieves two mugs from a cupboard, then two teaspoons from the first drawer. The kettle whistles in the same moment as Timmy enters the kitchen; Armie smiles and gestures for him to sit down at the table.

“There are a lot of pictures of you with a woman” Timmy says, “Is she your wife?” he asks, genuinely curious. Armie's smile fades.

“Yeah, she... yeah, she is” he answers, voice low, busying himself with the tea preparation. Timmy beams.

“Damn, man, she's stunning! You're lucky” he tells Armie, and he means it. He looks at the clock on the wall. “Is she still working? Will she be home for dinner? Maybe you should warn her that I'm here, for tonight” Timmy suggests, genuinely wishing not to be intruding into the couple's routine. Armie drops a teaspoon on the floor and quickly takes it back before Archie can lick it. He clears his throat.

“No, she... she died, three years ago” he informs his guest, still looking at the teaspoon in his hand.

“Shit, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked!” Timmy apologizes, feeling like an idiot, hoping Armie doesn't hate him now. “Right, I'll just shut the fuck up now, I always screw things up when I open my fucking mouth” he says, bending his arms on the table and hiding his face into the crook of his elbow.

“No, really, it's ok. You couldn't know it” Armie reassures him, bringing the mugs and the tea bags to the table. They drink their teas in silence, then Armie points at a little cabinet next to the door.

“The phone is there, if you want to try and call your friends, or your family, to inform them that you're here” he offers to the lad, who smiles and nods.

“Thanks” Timmy says, then goes to the phone while Armie washes the few dishes and puts the tea bags back into the pantry. From the kitchen, he hears the noise of the phone buttons being pressed, then silence, then the _click_ of the receiver going back to its place: apparently the first person Timmy has called didn't pick up. Armie hears the buttons again, and then Timmy's voice, low but relaxed.

“Ehi, Shaun! Bro, what's up? Yeah... I was busy, you know. Yeah... oh, right? Shit, that's awesome, man! Yeah, of course, count me in! Yeah, yeah, I heard about it, they almost caught him... fucking bastards... Listen, I need a favor: could you lend me some money? I will give them back to you as soon as... yeah, three hundred? Yeah, man, I know, that bastard of Pat says that he's gonna report me to the Garda if I don't... yeah, sure. No, I'm at a friend's house now... no, not that kind of friend! He's, uhm... a nice guy. Yeah, he's been kind to me... no, I can't ask him for money, bro, what the fuck? Listen, can you give me the money or...? Ok... mh-mh... yeah, no, I understand. No, no, really, it's ok... I'll figure it out, you know me, I'm the man with a thousand skills, right? Ah ah, yeah sure! Yeah, ok, see you later”

_Click_

Silence. Armie is drying his hands on a towel, when he clearly hears Timmy sobbing at the other side of the wall. He feels his own heart ache for the boy: he only called two people, and they both let him down. Does he really know only two people? Where are his parents? Why doesn't he call them? How can they let their son live into an apartment he clearly can't afford? Too many question, and maybe none of them is Armie's business. He wants to go and say something to the lad, patting his shoulder, telling him everything is going to be fine, but then he decides not to go. Better allow him to have some space, Armie thinks.

After some minutes, Timmy goes back to the kitchen: his eyes are rimmed red, but he pretends to be cool.

“Ehi” he says to Armie

“Ehi” the man greets him, “I'm going to bring you a pillow and a set of sheets to use for tonight. The couch is very comfortable, and you can watch the TV as long as you want. I'll leave for work about 5am, but I'll try not to wake you up, I promise” Armie winks and Timmy nods, smiling, looking at the floor. Archie is snoring under the coffee table, unaware of the boy's trials and tribulations.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Armie asks then, “I'll show you were the towels are” he says without waiting for an answer. He heads upstairs and his guest follows him right away.

\---

Armie is setting the couch for the night when Timmy joins him into the living room: the boy is wrapped from neck to knees into a bath towel like a human burrito. His hair is a wet mess, and he is barefoot.

“I thought that you could need something to wear for the night, so...” Armie points at some clothes on the coffee table, “These are one of my t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants, probably too big for you, but they should work as a temporary pajama” he says, smiling broadly. It's so weird to have someone else in this house, after...

“Thanks, man, really, that's more than I deserve” Timmy says, genuinely surprised by the generosity of that man who barely knows him. Armie leaves the room, giving the lad some privacy to get dressed. He goes to the kitchen and starts pouring the Indian food into some clean bowls, then puts them one by one into the microwave, to heat them for dinner. He peeps at the living room and catches Timmy while being shirtless: the boy is thin, pale, and he has several tattoos on his arms and back. Armie couldn't see them before, since the lad was wearing a long sleeved jumper. The doctor frowns, thinking: how is it possible that he has money for the tattoos but not for paying rent? That's totally weird.

Timmy enters the kitchen, attracted by the nice smell of the food.

“Can I help you?” he asks, but Armie has already set the table for two (which is something he wasn't used to, anymore) and started sharing each portion of food between the two of them. They start eating, while Archie tries to jump on Timmy's leg to see what smells so good. The boy laughs.

“Have you ever had a dog?” Armie asks him. Timmy shakes his head.

“No. But I wish I had” he answers, without making eye contact.

“Your tattoos are pretty interesting” the doctor says, pretending indifference, keeping eating. “They look expensive, though”.

Timmy stretches his arms to offer a better view.

“What, these ones? Naaah! I had them for free” the boy confesses, and Armie is even more confused now. “A friend of mine needed someone to practice on, and I volunteered” Timmy explains, a very proud smile on his face.

“Are you kidding me?” Armie is both amused and shocked, “Did you really let a person with zero experience put some permanent signs on your skin?!” he enquires, in disbelief, “He may have drawn a giant dick on your back, and you would never know!” Armie jokes and they both laugh loudly. That sound had been missing from that house for so long, Armie had almost forgotten how it was like to hear it.

After dinner, Timmy sits on the floor of the living room and starts rummaging through the dozens of vinyl records stocked into one of the lowest shelves.

“Let's see what you got, old man” he jokes, but Armie pretends not to notice it (he secretly smirks, though), “Mmmh... Phil Collins? Seriously? And this one... Lionel Richie? Ew, man, my grandma has better taste than you!” he laughs, putting the records back.

“Those ones belonged to my wife” Armie reveals, and before Timmy can start apologize again, he says “She really had terrible tastes in music!” he shakes his head, grinning; then he points at a shelf on top of the wall: “My ones are there, and are probably even worse” he invites his guest to take a look. Timmy is too curious to not comply. He picks a bunch of vinyls and reads the titles aloud.

“ _Madame Butterfly... La Trov... Triv..._ ”

“ _La Traviata_ ” Armie corrects him, still smiling.

“Oh. Never heard about this” he takes another record, “ _La Boh_ _è_ _me... Tosche?_ ” the boy asks, confused about the correct way to spell it.

“ _Tosca_ ” Armie laughs, “Do you realize you just butchered the titles of the most famous operas that mankind has ever known?”

Timmy blushes furiously.

“Sorry, I know I'm just an ignorant brat” he says, apologetically.

“You're still young, you have all the time in the world to learn everything you don't know” Armie reassures him, sweetly. He is amazed by how easily Timmy can be so shy and insecure, and at the same time so witty and reckless. Also, he seems totally unaware of his own appearance, because if he was, he wouldn't need to sleep at some stranger guy's house: he would have a whole queue of men begging for a minute of his attention.

“Well, better if I try to sleep for a few hours” Armie tells, yawning and stretching, heading towards the stairs. “Goodnight, Paul” he smirks at his guest. Timmy laughs softly.

“Goodnight, Doc” he replies.

Doc? Armie thinks he likes it.

\---

At 4:17 am, Armie is ready to go to work. He goes downstairs, trying to be as much quiet as he can manage into the darkness of the house. The only light in the living room comes from the streetlamp right outside the window, so he can see Timmy sleeping on the couch: he is on his stomach, mouth open, breathing heavily; one of his arms is folded under his head, the other one is hanging down, the back of his hand touching the floor; one of his legs is bent, while the other one is stretched, so his shin and foot are totally outside the couch. He looks painfully comfortless.

Armie sighs, rolls his eyes, then sighs again.

“Alright, alright!” he says, as if talking to someone who is there with him. Then he carefully gets close to the couch, takes the sheets off from the boy's body, gently spins him around on his back, then takes his slender body into his arms and slowly lifts him. He brings him upstairs, always being careful to not wake him up, enters the master bedroom and then delicately lays him on the bed, which is a mess right now, but the sheets are clean and still smelling nice. Armie covers the lad with the duvet, earning a contented sigh from him.

The man goes back downstairs, takes his jacket and his keys and looks at one of the pictures on the shelf: a beautiful woman, with long black hair and green eyes, is smiling broadly at him.

“I hope you're happy now” Armie says, annoyed (but not for real), before going out in the cold winter morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I have no clue how many chapter this story will have. I know, I'm ridiculous :D


	3. Love of my life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie has a tough day at work. Timmy meets the neighbor. The boys take an important decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost midnight but I wanted to post this chapter anyway. I'm developing this story and even if I planned to wrap it up in a few chapters, I feel like I should give it more time to grow up and bloom, so it will be a slow burn :) Writing this story is really making me feel happy and excited, I literally can't wait for the work day to be over to come back home and write, and this is something I haven't felt for a long time, so... hope you'll enjoy it!!! :)

Chapter 3: love of my life

_Love of my life, you've hurt me  
You've broken my heart, and now you leave me  
Love of my life, can't you see?  
Bring it back, bring it back  
Don't take it away from me  
Because you don't know  
What it means to me_

_Love of my life, don't leave me  
You've taken my love, and now desert me  
Love of my life, can't you see?  
Bring it back, bring it back  
Don't take it away from me  
Because you don't know  
What it means to me_

(“Love of my life”, the Queen)

_Tuesday_

It's not even 9am, and doctor Hammer already wants to say _fuck off_ , throw his uniform into the garbage and just leave the hospital for good. He's half way through his shift and he already had to deal with two drunken, dehydrated idiots; one old lady experiencing chest pain and crying out she was having a stroke when she was actually just holding back a big, noisy burp (that she performed in front of Armie and a couple of nurses); one biker who had fallen into a hole in the ground and had a dislocated shoulder; a toddler almost choking on a piece of chicken; a post man who had been bitten by a tiny angry dog (and Armie wondered: why the smaller is the dog, the worst is the bite?).

But the more serious episode of that morning had been a huge fight between two rival gangs in the Finglas district, and Armie had spent almost two hours of his life patching up stupid bleeding teenagers, dreaming about slapping their shitty faces one by one, wanting to scream in frustration. Two of those boys had been stabbed with some broken bottles of beer, and one had half of his skull crushed by a hockey stick: he was alive, but he had lost sight on his left eye and he needed several months of rehab to learn how to speak properly again.

Doc wants those two hours of his life back, he wants to eat his damn breakfast in peace and then he wants to be left alone for the rest of his shift. Is this too much to ask? He goes into the kitchen, which is usually the place where the nurses go to bitch about other nurses, or the residents, or their poor husbands. This morning, Armie is lucky: the kitchen is empty and someone has even left a box with some chocolate mini-muffins, for everyone to pick. He immediately stuff three of them in his mouth, then starts making coffee. While he waits for the water in the kettle to boil, he lays on the small couch and closes his eyes for some seconds.

He relaxes, feeling the tiredness embrace him; he keeps his eyes closed, his head leaning on the back of the couch. Suddenly a familiar scent fills his nostrils, and he senses the cushion dip slightly next to him: a soft shape closes the distance between them, and he feels warm lips gently colliding with his own lips. He opens his eyes and smiles.

“Hi” he whispers.

“Hi, cow boy” his wife greets him. They kiss again.

“You've been neglecting me” Armie accuses her, but his tone is sweet and calm.

“Well, you've been quite busy yesterday” she says, raising an eyebrow. Armie rolls his eyes, but he is still smiling.

“Yeah, I'm going to collect every stray kid in this city from now on” he states ironically. She lightly punches his chest.

“Stop it! You know you are doing the right thing with that boy. He needed your help, you saved him” she says, her face serious.

“And you have nothing to do with our random, spontaneous meeting, right?” the doctor asks, grinning. She looks on one side, trying to hold back a clever smirk.

“I don't know... do I?” she chirps and they both laugh.

“Are you jealous that he's sleeping in our bed right now?” Armie asks her with a cheeky grin. She tilts her head to the side.

“Should I be jealous? You know I don't like to see you so alone and bitter and pissed at life every day. It's good for you to have someone to talk to, finally”

They kiss again, and Armie looks at her with a loving gaze.

“I miss you” he says, suddenly looking sad and tired.

“I know” she murmurs, caressing his chest and shoulders.

“No, you don't know! I miss you so much it hurts!” he is on the verge of tears now. “Life has become unbearable, I just can't take it anymore... some nights I wake up alone in that huge, cold bed and even breathing causes me pain!” he says louder than he meant to.

“Please, Armie, stop” she begs him, cupping his jaw.

“I just want to be with you” he whispers, while tears start rolling down his cheekbones “I would do anything...”

“No!” she stops him immediately, “Don't you dare say these things. I won't let you hurt yourself again!”

They are both crying now.

“I need you, I can't go on without you” Armie says softly.

“You have to find a reason to live” his wife tells him, leaning her forehead against his one, “I may have gone but you are alive. You are alive, Armie!” she tugs at his shirt, tries to shake him out of his misery. “You are alive and you don't have to waste your life pining on a ghost! Please, Armie, there is still so much good you can do with your life... just try to find a reason, just one reason to keep living” she begs him, looking straight into his eyes, caressing his face. Armie holds her tighter, sensing that she will leave him any minute now.

“Don't go, please, stay with me a little longer” he asks. She kisses him deeply, almost wanting to take all the desperation from him and make it hers.

“Find a reason, Armie” she repeats, then kisses him again, “Armie...” another kiss, “Armie...”

“Armie!?!?” a steady, high pitched voice breaks the romance. Armie jolts awake with a grunt, a tiny line of drool on his cheek; he opens his eyes and sees a woman in front of him, but it's not his wife: it's Lauren, the head nurse, a thick blonde lady in her late forties, a person so sweet and patient that the younger nurses call her _Adolf._

“Yeah, what?” Armie tries to speak, his voice muffled with sleep.

“Were you sleeping?” the nurse asks, sarcastic.

“Who, me? Naaah, I was just looking at my eyelids from the inside” Armie replies, even more sarcastic, then gets up from the couch with a louder grunt and a blasphemy.

“For forty-five minutes?” Lauren accuses him, hands on her hips. He stares at her in disbelief.

“What? Seriously? Shit.” he wears his uniform and heads out of the kitchen, followed by the lady. She gives him a stack of folders and they start the tour of the patients rooms for the afternoon. After the first four rooms, Lauren puts a hand on the doctor's forearm.

“How are things going, back home?” she enquires, looking fondly at the man. She has a son of Armie's age, so she has always been very maternal towards him, even before the tragedy. He squeezes her hand softly.

“Don't worry about me at home, you already have enough to worry about me being here” he jokes, then they start walking through the hallway. When they have checked all the room, Armie asks her: “Do you mind if I go home a couple of hours earlier today? I have a guest and I want to make dinner” he smiles involuntarily. Lauren's eyebrows almost reach the roof of the hospital.

“A guest? Who?” she meddles, her eyes shining with curiosity. He stops abruptly and looks at her.

“Well, you have always said that I had to do something good with my life, so guess what? I have a foster kid now” he laughs maliciously, knowing that she will waste no time in prying further.

“A foster kid? When? How? Who is this kid?” she looks confused and that amuses Armie even more.

“Ah! You should see him: he has this weird haircut, like a punk version of Danny Zuko... maybe I'll have the same haircut, I think it would suit me” the doctor jokes (of course he has no intention to do such a thing: he would look ridiculous). Lauren scolds him.

“Don't you dare! I'm the only person who can cut your hair. And anyway, seriously, where is this kid coming from? Do you know something about his family?”

“Nope, not yet, but I have every intention of finding it out” Armie says, and he means it.

\---

Timmy wakes up lying in the most comfortable bed he has ever been: the mattress is huge and has the perfect level of hardness, the base doesn't creak when he moves; the sheets are soft and nicely scented, the pillows are full and cozy. He opens his eyes and needs a few seconds to focus and remember where he is, but mostly: how the hell did he get there? He frowns, trying to recall the events of the day before: Pat screaming and chasing him in the streets; him turning the corner and searching for a place to hide... him seeing the tall man with the dog and coming up with an alternative solution.

Armie.

Instinctively, Timmy turns around in the bed, searching for the man. Did they sleep together? Did they...? Well, Timmy would remember it. He would definitely remember if he had sex with the most handsome, sexy, charming, patient, caring, adorably dorky man he has ever met. Oh yes, he would _definitely_ remember it.

He scans the room, curious: there are two nightstands at both sides of the bed, perfectly identical, with a lamp on each one; there is a book with a yellow cover and a bookmark in it on the nightstand to the left side, and a half glass of water on the one to the right. And since he saw Armie bring the glass of water with him last night, then...

“That's the last book she read before she died” Timmy whispers to himself, and even if he wants to peep and see what kind of book it is, he doesn't dare to touch it, persuaded that this would piss Armie off.

He keeps looking around in the room, and sees the wardrobe, the chest of drawers, the shelves with more pictures of Armie and his wife: the two of them on a beach during summer; the two of them in Paris; the two of them on their wedding day. A picture of her alone, in her wedding gown, stunning as an angel. She is still in this house, Timmy can almost hear her downstairs in the kitchen, moving around and making coffee.

She is everywhere. And not only in the house: she is in Armie's mind, his heart, his memories. Timmy feels his own heart shrink into his chest: he has never loved anyone so intensely, so totally. That's the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime. That's the kind of love of which songs and movies and novels talk about, making us all believe it's true, it can happen for real. They had it. They lived it. And now Armie lost it.

Timmy feels sad for that man who's been nothing but wonderful, nice and patient towards him, helped him and even gave him a shelter, when he could have simply ignored him and let him go when Pat had given up the chasing. He will be thankful, he will help Armie back; he will be a good person and show the man his gratitude. Yes, he can do that, for Armie. He will become a better person because of him. What can he do to start? Well, he could clean the house, cook dinner, buy a cake... his stomach rumbles at the simple thought of it and Timmy giggles.

Suddenly, he remembers he's probably not the only guest of the house who's been starving.

“Archie!” he yells, sitting up in the middle of the bed, “Oh shit, I totally forgot him”. Timmy launches himself across the stairs, goes into the kitchen and searches for the dog's kennel: he finds it empty. He starts panic.

“Archiiiie! Here buddy, come here, it's me, Timmy” he calls the dog, but the puppy seems to be disappeared. And he had just planned to be a good person and be thankful! But instead he had lost Armie's dog after just a few hours they met. Great. Amazing, really.

He goes into the living room and then peers at the cabinet next to the entrance, where the phone is located. He notices a piece of paper folded in two and left there: he opens it, and finds out it's a message from Armie.

_Gone to work_

_Back about 6pm_

_No panic if you don't find Archie, neighbor picks him up every morning_

_Milk in the fridge_

_Please stay_

Timmy sighs heavily in relief, smiles, then brings the piece of paper to his face, smells it, trying to find Armie's sweet scent there. He heads back into the kitchen and checks the fridge, finds eggs and milk, makes scrambled eggs (and that could be the most decent breakfast he has had in a long, long time).

About 12am, Timmy is still at Armie's home. He has cleaned all around, made the bed, checked the expiring dates on all the cans and bottles in the pantry. He feels satisfied; these are the kind of things he would do, if only he had a house on his own. But everything he can afford right now is that dump in Pat's condo.

The boy is about to go out for some grocery shopping (he only has sixteen punts, so it will be a very poor range of products), when he hears the main door opening and the clattering of a dog's claws towards him.

“Archie!! Ehi buddy, where have you been?” the dog throws himself in Timmy's arms and the boy cuddles him happily. He looks up and finds a little lady looking curiously at him: she has grey short hair, light blue eyes, a floral jumper and is carrying two big bags with the local supermarket's logo on them.

“You must be _the guest_ ” she chirps, putting the bags on the table and starting moving around the kitchen like this was her own home. Timmy is confused and feels awkward and misplaced. She puts the kettle on the stove, opens and closes doors, takes a glass of water. She is totally at ease in the house, and suddenly Timmy knows why.

“Sorry, madam... are you Armie's mother?” he asks, eyes wide, blushing. The lady turns around and smiles at him.

“Oh, darling, I wish I was” she tells, putting two mugs on the table, “I would be nothing but proud if I had a son like him. I'm just the nosy neighbor” she laughs, pouring the boiling water into the mugs. “My name is Gemma, and you are...”

“Me? I... uh... Timmy” the boy answers, caught off guard by all that sudden kindness. There must be something in the water that makes all the people living in this street so generous and open with him. The lady studies him for a moment, then she sits down and adds some milk in her tea.

“Armie called me this morning, telling me he had a guest so I wouldn't get scared when I eventually saw you” she explains, and gestures for the boy to sit down. “Now, do you want milk in your tea?” Timmy nods and she fills his mug. “I can't even express my surprise when he told me he had a guest at home for the night! I mean, I'm happy if he started see someone else after... you know, the poor girl died” she shakes her head sadly and before Timmy can even tell her that this is _not_ what's happening here, she keeps talking: “You should have seen him right after her death, he was a broken man. He didn't leave this house for days. We tried to bring him food but he didn't even opened the door to any of us. Not even me!” she says, visibly upset, “I saw him growing up, I know his parents and aunties, and I saw him going through the lowest moment of his life. I love him as he was my own son. So let me make this clear, lad: Armie is a remarkable man, probably one of the few truly good men left, so you make sure you treat him well and with respect, because he will do just the same to you” the lady points her finger to Timmy with a determined glance. The boy tries to talk again, to clarify that things are not like that, but she keeps going, a flood of unrequested words: “Sure, you must be a nice lad too, if Armie has seen something in you. He hasn't dated anyone since his wife passed away. I must admit I was in shock when I saw you were a boy, but you know, it's not like we have control on who we love and when. I have a nephew who is just like you” she tilts her head on the side, examining the young man's appearance, “He is a little bit... _particular,_ let's say so. My brother, his father, was so upset when he found out! But I told him: Johnathan -that's his name- look at all the terrible things going on in the world! Look at that poor Armie, he has just lost the love of his life, while your son is alive and healthy and smart! Ok, maybe he won't marry some silly girl, but he is still your son! Am I right? You know, sometimes you have to stand up for what's right, even if you don't really understand those things” she says drinking her tea, and finally stops talking.

Timmy stares at her, mouth gaping, totally in awe: he just met this ridiculous woman and he already adore her. He feels he should hug her, or at least tell her the truth, but in the end he decides to let her believe whatever she wants.

\---

_“Wendy, I'm hooome!”_

At 4pm Armie comes back to his place, unsure if Timmy will still be there. He left the hospital a couple of hours earlier today, because his brain was mulling over so many ideas and he couldn't wait to share them with his new friend. He makes a beeline to the kitchen, smelling the unmistakable scent of a beef pie. Archie welcomes him as always, swinging his tail and searching for cuddles.

Timmy is setting the table for dinner. Before she left, Gemma has helped him preparing a very nice meal for himself and Armie. The boy smiles and greets the doctor.

“Ehi, you're early” he says. And why suddenly the sight of the man leaves him breathless? Shit, that lady has really messed up his head with all that talking of dating and love and whatever. He needs to get a fucking grip, now.

Armie smiles broadly, his body restless.

“Listen, I know your friend won't lend you the money, and I know we agreed for you to stay here for only one night but I think I have a better solution: come with me” he gestures for Timmy to follow him and heads upstairs, followed by Archie, bringing the lad in front of the spare bedroom. He opens the door and turns on the light, and a messy, dusty storage room appears in front of them. Armie walks inside, moving a couple of cardboard boxes out of his way. “I know this seems like a cloakroom right now, but I swear there is a bed somewhere under the boxes!” he laughs awkwardly. Timmy looks around, unsure about what to think. Armie goes on talking: “I was thinking that maybe you can stay here for a little while, of course you don't owe me rent or anything, and that's my suggestion: I will lend you the money you need for your old apartment, then I'll help you find a job, and I mean a _real_ job. I know people that owe me some favors, and you're young and strong, so it shouldn't be difficult for you to find something you can do. When you'll have your first salary, you'll give me back the money I lent you. Then, we will start looking for a new apartment for you, and when we find it, if you want, if you feel ready, I will help you apply for a college. I know people in the central bank if you want to ask for a student loan. You will study and work part time to repay the loan. You can do it because you're smart and clever. I believe in you” the man ends his pep talk and stares at Timmy with sparkling eyes and a broad smile, waiting for an answer.

The boy is honestly confused. Armie has spoken so fast and full of enthusiasm that he missed some details of the speech: did he say college? When? How? And why should he stay here and not going back to his apartment, since Armie will give him the money for the rent? He feels like Armie has already taken all the decisions without even consulting him.

“Wow, you planned everything ahead” he says, voice low, not looking at the man. He taps at one of the box with his foot.

“Well, someone made me understand that my life would have a meaning if I found a reason to live, and I think helping you could be a good start. An amazing start, actually” Armie tells him, putting his heart on his sleeve, showing him how much he cares. Because it's true: he cares about him, even if they've known each other for less than 24 hours. “Please, Timmy, let me help you. Give me this task, keep me busy for a while. Maybe there is a reason we found each other now, when we are both broken and messed up. Maybe my reason to live is to make sure you don't end up sleeping under a bridge and get eaten by rats. And mark me, I'm doing this for the rats, I mean, look at you: you would make a very poor meal” he jokes, trying to ease the tension. They stare at each other for some seconds, then they both burst in laugh, loud and free.

“Fuck you” Timmy says and Armie pretends to be scandalized. They laugh more.

“Alright, let's see how it works” Timmy grants then, nodding shyly. “But first let's at least find the bed under this mess. Your couch is terrible and I'm sure you don't want to carry me upstairs again tonight” he winks and Armie laughs, shakes his head, scratches his forehead, clearly embarrassed.

They clean up the room in less than two hours. Turns out the room has a nice single bed, a wardrobe and even a little chest of drawers. Not that Timmy has much stuff to fill it. They will go to his old apartment tomorrow to pay the debt and take Timmy's clothes and belongings. The thought of sharing a house with Armie makes his head spin and his heart flutter. He knows the man is just being kind to him, that he has no hidden agenda, no secret intention of seducing him, but still there is a tiny part of him hoping for something to happen. Even just a kiss, and Timmy would be the happiest man on earth, really. But he knows he doesn't have to be delusional: Armie is straight and his wife will always be his true, only love. He can't compete with a ghost.

There is just one box left in the (now Timmy's) bedroom, and then they can go back downstairs and finally have dinner. Burning with curiosity, while Armie is on the phone, Timmy opens the little cardboard box and finds some toys, an empty picture frame, a few notebooks: he takes out one of them, and inside there are some handwritten notes about booking flights, buying new shoes, have the tires checked. A page slips away from the notebook and falls on the floor, so Timmy collects and reads it. There is only one word, repeated dozen of times in columns: _Elio._

Timmy goes in the kitchen, unsure if he should enquire further. Armie is cutting the beef pie, clearly eager to devour it.

“What's an _Elio_?” Timmy asks, hoping to not upset the doctor. The man's face tells him he is confused as much as him: the boy hands him over the piece of paper and waits. Armie reads the page, then laughs, shaking his head.

“Oh, yeah, this... it's a name, a boy's name” he explains, sitting down at the table, “A few years after the wedding, my wife and I started trying to conceive a child, and she was obsessed with this name because once she had this weird dream about a boy in a garden, and apparently his name was Elio” Armie smiles fondly and melancholy. “I'm pretty sure she had had an extra glass of wine before having that dream” he jokes, but his eyes stay a little sad.

They eat in silence for a while, then Timmy says:

“You can still have a child, and call him Elio or whatever you like”

Armie chuckles.

“Oh, there is no way this will happen. I will never fall in love with another woman, ever” he states, his voice steady and confident.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Wendy, I'm home!" it's a quote from the movie "Shining" by Stanley Kubrick (if you haven't seen it, well, you haven't really lived yet!!!)


	4. A reason to live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doc and Paul hanging around in Dublin city center.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! It's saturday, so... new chapter! This one is what I usually call a "bridge chapter" because, just like a bridge, it leads us towards a more important and essential chapter (next one) :) But before you read, here a couple of things you should know:  
> Guinness is the most iconic Irish stout beer  
> all the streets named in this chapter are real  
> Penneys is the original name of Primark (it's still called like this in Ireland, while in the rest of the world is called Primark)  
> "What's the craic?" ---> what's going on? how are things going?  
> RTE is the Irish national television broadcaster

Chapter 4: a reason to live

_Wednesday_

The new bed is very comfy, although smaller than the one in Armie's bedroom. It's early morning, outside it's still dark, but Timmy is already awake: his brain ruminates a thousand thoughts per minute, spinning like a washing machine which is about to explode. His mind keeps rewinding the tape and broadcasting Armie's speech about finding a job and apply for college and moving into an apartment on his own. He keeps seeing the doctor's bright, hopeful eyes, his open smile, his hand on his heart when he had said _I believe in you_... nobody has ever believed in Timmy, nobody has ever said something nice to him before. It's strange and heartwarming and scary and encouraging. All those things Armie wants Timmy to do, work and make a living and study, are all things that adult, mature, responsible people do; until now, the most responsible thing Timmy has ever done, has been buying the right washing powder for his laundry (and he still managed to make all his socks shrink). Is he really ready to make a step forward in his life and become that person Armie wants him to be? Can he do it for himself? Can he do it for Armie?

Armie.

Among all the other thoughts haunting him, Timmy can't stop thinking about something that happened last night. Something he saw.

He was going upstairs to bed after watching some TV, when the bathroom's door had been opened from the inside, and Armie had come out of the room, freshly showered, wet hair, a tiny white towel wrapped around his hips. Timmy had stopped in the middle of the stairs, but luckily Doc hadn't seen him: Timmy knows how shy the man is, and the last thing he wants is embarrass him further. However, the boy had waited for Armie to enter his room before climbing the last few steps towards his own bedroom, but suddenly a mysterious force had pushed his legs in the opposite direction, and he had found himself in front of Armie's room, whose door was slightly open. He had glanced inside in the very same moment the towel had fallen on the floor. The doctor had his back to the door, so Timmy had enjoyed a full vision of his entire figure: his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back moving under the skin as he was drying his hair; his narrow waist and hips; his long, perfect shaped legs; and that ass! Round, meaty, firm... Timmy had licked his lips involuntarily at the sight of that masterpiece of human perfection. He had mentally snapped a picture of that glorious image before going to his room for real.

Now, alone in his bed, warm and cozy under the duvet, the memory of a naked Armie has slowly come back to his mind to torture him: this, and the fact that he hasn't had sex for more than two weeks (which is a record for him), are the cause of his current huge, painful boner, standing heavy between his legs, looking neglected and angry, asking for attention. Timmy tries to distract himself with some disgusting thoughts like Pat burping after the third can of Guinness and scratching his balls, but it doesn't work: the boner it's still there, angrier than ever, demanding to be taken in hand, literally. The lad sighs, tossing and turning for what seems an eternity, and then surrenders to his own horniness. He presses his face into the pillow to try muffling his noises, wraps a hand around his shaft and starts stroking, with the picture of Armie's ass mercilessly stuck in his memory. He finishes shamefully quick.

Downstairs, into the kitchen, Armie is busying himself with breakfast: there is a long day ahead waiting for the two men, they will need some extra energy. He makes porridge and brews the coffee. After a while Timmy joins him: he enters the room, looks at Armie, blushes furiously, stares at the floor while taking a banana from the fruit basket, blushes even more. Armie doesn't enquire, focused on cracking some eggs. The smell of the bacon is intoxicating, and the boy's stomach rumbles.

“I'm glad you're hungry, Paul” the doctor says, smiling; Timmy is searching for a knife in the drawer, planning to slice the banana to add to the porridge. He finds it, but Armie intercepts him, taking the item away from his hand.

“What are you doing?” the lad asks, bewildered, “I need it to cut my fruit”

“I'll cut the fruit” Armie replies dryly “I don't want to end up cleaning your blood all over my furniture” he says, and Timmy frowns.

“But...”

“Go sit down” Armie commands, gesturing towards the table. The boy complies, wondering why suddenly the man is acting like this: Timmy is an adult, he has managed many knives before, and he doesn't need to be protected. He watches the doctor moving easily between the stoves and the counter, stirring the scrambled eggs into the pan, adding the bacon and then pouring everything into two dishes, which he brings to the table, putting one in front of him.

“Thank you” Timmy says, without raising his eyes.

Armie looks at the young man in front of him eating in silence, and feels guilty and stupid.

“I'm sorry, it's just... I saw you with that knife and I panicked” he admits, voice low, “Maybe it's because I see so many lads like you at the hospital every day... I didn't want you to hurt yourself” he explains, and Timmy finally looks at him, smiling.

“Oh, ok, right” he whispers, nodding, going back to his breakfast. They munch for a few minutes, then Armie blurts out:

“Hey, Tim, how does an omelette apologize? ... _Eggs_ -cuse me?” he stares at the boy with the widest smile ever, waiting for him to get the joke and laugh. But Timmy's face doesn't make a single twitch.

“That's literally the silliest thing I've ever heard in my whole damn life” he states, the fork halfway to his mouth. Armie is honestly shocked.

“What?! That's the best joke of my repertory!” he protests, but he knows that was a very bad one. It still makes him grin, though. He can laugh with little.

\---

The condo where Timmy was living until two days before is really old, unsafe and dirty; it looks like it could crumble down any minute now. The pipes are full of rust and there is mold basically everywhere. The stink of piss is unbearable. Armie looks up at the stairwell, grimacing.

“I can't believe you had to pay three hundred punts to stay here” he tells Timmy, who instead seems pretty cool with that, “For this amount of money you should be renting a full castle!”

Timmy shrugs. They reach the first floor and the boy knocks at a red door. A few seconds later, the door opens and the huge figure of Pat pops up, elegant and polished as always in his grey soiled t-shirt and boxer briefs.

“You're late” he grunts, scanning Timmy's figure from head to toe, not even acknowledging Armie's presence.

“Yeah, sorry, I had a lot to catch up with my uncle” the young man mumbles, hands into pockets and slack shoulders. Pat spits on the floor, unimpressed.

“Sure, this is your uncle like all the other ones were, right?” he growls, then glances at Armie for the first time, “There is much less _come and go_ since I got rid of this little slut” he says with obvious disgust.

Armie clenches his fists, his face turning red in two seconds: he leans forward and if Timmy didn't have such quick reflexes to stop him half way, he would have smashed that fucker's face right then and there.

Timmy stares at Armie for a moment, silently begging him to calm down. When he's sure the man won't do something stupid, he turns around towards his former landlord and delivers him a white envelope.

“That's your money. Now give me the key so I can take my stuff and never come back” the lad demands with a self-confidence he didn't even know he had.

They head upstairs to the third floor, and Timmy opens the door to his apartment. The place is small, but tidy. The boy used to keep his few belongings well hidden, because that is not a neighbourhood where you can show off your fancy things.

“I swear I want to break every single bone in that asshole's body” Armie states, still raging, while collecting a few cutlery from the tiny kitchen. Timmy laughs and Doc is honestly disoriented by his coolness. “Doesn't it bother you the way he talks to you? The way he's being disrespectful towards you all this time? He's just a shitty homophobe and someone should teach him a lesson!” he says. Timmy sighs.

“He's not an homophobe” he murmurs, throwing his few clothes into a bin bag.

“It seems to me he is”

Timmy steps forward and stops few inches from Armie's face.

“He offered me an alternative way to repay my debts, and believe me, I'm not so peaky when it comes about shagging, but just imagine Pat's filthy hands all over me gives me nausea” he reveals, strangely calm; then, when he sees Armie's shock, he adds: “Why do you think I was running away from him, the day we met?”

Armie is, if possible, even more pissed off now.

“I'm going to fucking kill him” he hisses, wide bloodshot eyes.

“No, you're not!” Timmy scolds him “It doesn't worth the trouble, and now stop acting like I'm a princess in distress, because I'm not!” he yells, then storms out of the apartment, leaving Armie there, fuming like an old chimney.

\---

They walk on Parnell Street, then turn right, down O'Connel Street, always in silence. Armie is still brooding over having missed the chance to punch that fucker's snout, and Timmy can feel his grudge from six feet distance. They are carrying two black plastic bags with the boy's few belongings. Armie can't believe that's all he has got.

“We should buy some new stuff” he suggests, calming down, “Clothes, shoes, you know, for you new job” he smiles and winks. Timmy tilts his head to the side.

“I don't have a job, yet” he says dryly.

“I know, but that's the next thing we're gonna fix. Now, let's have some fun, uh?”

They turn right on Henry Street, and after a few minutes Armie stops abruptly in front of a huge shop. Timmy raises an eyebrow.

“Penneys? Seriously?” he asks in disbelief. Armie performs a deep, ironic bow.

“Would you prefer Versace, my lord?” he jokes, smirking. Timmy rolls his eyes so hard he's sure he's seen his own brain.

“Alright, then” he gives up and enters the shop.

Seventy-five minutes later, they leave Penneys with five oversized bags full of new clothes, shoes, socks, underwear, gloves, scarfs, and Armie is proudly wearing a green jumper with a printed phrase that says _Don't piss me off, I'm Irish._

“I'm going to give you back all this money, I promise” Timmy says, running to keep up with Armie's long strides.

“Of course you are, and with 25% of interests!” the doctor jokes.

“Loan shark” Timmy mumbles, faking being hurt, but actually grinning.

Before they head to their next stop, Armie wants to show something to his friend, something he hopes could make him take a tough decision more easily. They cross the _Ha'penny Bridge_ to the other side of the Liffey river, then walk down on Fleet Street for another ten minutes before stopping in front of their destination: the Trinity College.

Timmy has walked this street thousands of times, but never dared to go inside (despite the college parks and library being open for everyone to enjoy), because he always felt so different from all those students, with their expensive backpacks and their fancy books and their bus tickets. He doesn't belong in a place like that.

They enter the main gate and start walking the streets into the college forecourt, which is immense, surrounded by parks and trees, still incredibly green despite being full winter. Armie profuses himself with an enthusiastic speech about the history of the college, and Timmy has never seen him so relaxed and happy. The boy's heart warms up at the sight of the man's passion and deep knowledge of different subjects; if there is something he has always found attractive in a man, is his intelligence and culture. It's a pity he had only dated idiots so far.

As they walk, a flood of students overwhelm them in both directions. They all look in a rush to reach their next class. Timmy envy them. A group of foreign students, all girls who look like spanish or brazilian, pass next to the two men, and they all look at them, giggling and blushing and making comments in their own language: Armie catches a _Qu_ _é_ _hermosos!_ which he somehow knows meaning _beautiful_ , and smiles broadly at them, even winking. The giggles get louder. Timmy turns his head towards the doctor, raises both eyebrows, and Armie shrugs.

“I'm pretty sure they were looking at you” Doc says, bumping his shoulder into Timmy's one, “I'm just an old, grumpy man”

“Shut up” Timmy huffs, “You're gorgeous and you know it. You have mirrors at home”. They both laugh.

\---

The little pick-up truck in front of the warehouse says _Danny Gorman and sons_.

Armie gestures for Timmy to follow him inside: they enter a huge building and suddenly find themselves surrounded by tall, immense shelves and pallet racks (at least ten levels towards the roof of the building); there are dozens of men working frantically, some of them drive a forklift, some others are climbing the racks on sliding ladders. All the workers wear yellow security vests and protective helmets, and they talk in little group, reading instructions on notebooks. The noises are loud, especially the beeping of the trucks coming and going from the loading docks.

From one of the offices at the side of the building, a man shows up, smiling friendly and waving to Armie.

“Hay, doctor, what's the craic?!” the man shouts, walking towards the two guests: he is short and stocky, with light brown hair, green eyes and a thick blonde beard that hides half of his face. He reaches out his hand to shake Armie's one.

“Danny, it's nice to see you again” Doc says with a grin, then turns and points at Timmy, patting his shoulder: “This is the friend I was talking to you about on the phone, his name is Timmy and he is a real hard worker” Armie sponsors him cheerfully. “Timmy, meet the man himself, Danny Gorman, the one who built this warehouse from scratch”

Danny laughs loud, playfully punching Armie's side, then glances at the boy.

“Ah! Such a good looking lad! You should have brought him to _RT_ _É_ _,_ not in this mess!” he jokes, with a thick accent from the south of the island, probably Wexford. Timmy smiles and blushes, sinking his hands in the pockets of his brand new blue jeans.

Mr Gorman shows the place to his two guests, explaining what they do and how the job works.

“It's nothing difficult: when people order shit from across the sea, that shit lands here before being delivered. We must ensure the packaging is not broken, and if it is, we put a new one; if the shit inside the packaging is broken, it's not our problem! We put a new packaging and deliver the shit, not our responsibility! You get me?” Danny yells to Timmy, his voice covered by the incessant noises of the warehouse. Timmy nods eagerly.

They go outside, where is less noisy and chaotic, and Danny lights a cigarette, offers one to Armie, who politely refuses, then offers one to the boy, who normally would never refuse a free smoke, but he wants to make a good impression on Mr Gorman (mostly for Armie's sake) so he refuses, too.

“So, what do you think? Can you give my friend a couple of days of probation?” Doc asks the short man, hopeful and a little nervous.

“Yah, why not? I always need some extra arms. He can start on friday morning, make sure he's here at 9am, and if he can keep up with the tasks, I will hire him permanently” Danny turns to speak straight to Timmy: “If you decide you want the job, I'll ask you to sign a nice contract, which means that I'll hold your soul forever” the man puts an heavy hand on the lad's shoulder and gazes intensely at him, green into green, and when he sees Timmy's pale, scared face, he laughs loudly, patting his own belly: “I was joking! Ha ha, such a good lad, I like him” he tells Armie, who is smiling proudly at his young friend.

Before they leave the warehouse, Armie takes Danny aside and speaks low into his ear:

“Please, keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't throw himself into something too dangerous without a proper training, and please make sure the other men treat him nicely” the doctor asks, and Mr Gorman winks at him with a warm smile.

\---

It's been a long day, and dinner is more than welcome. Timmy is trying to fit all his new clothes into the wardrobe in his room, and when he finishes, he goes downstairs and joins Doc on the couch: they watch _Blade Runner_ on VHS, and Armie mocks the young man because he never watched any of his favorite movies.

Time to bed comes: they are both exhausted and Armie needs to be at the hospital at 7am the next morning.

“Goodnight, Paul” he dismisses the boy on top of the stairs.

“Goodnight, Doc” Timmy says back, and before he can ever realize what he's doing, he puts a hand on the man's nape and places an open-mouthed kiss on his cheek, feeling the stubble on his lips and tongue. When he registers what he has just done, he runs away, enters his room and shuts the door.

Armie stays like this for a couple of minutes, staring at the closed door, dazed and confused, smiling like an idiot; then he brushes his fingers on the same spot where Timmy kissed him, and feels his face going hot and red under his fingertips.

“Here I am” he whispers to himself, “A grown ass man of 35, a doctor, blushing for a peck on the cheek” he laughs silently and shakes his head. He is such a mess.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuhhh a peck on the cheek!!! How bold, Paul!! xD


	5. Big boys cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie has a dream, starts feeling like something is changing, and finally opens up about his grieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people! Are you done with the Xmas shopping? Here a short chapter, actually this one and the next one were planned to be one single long chapter, but I didn't want to overwhelm you with too many events and emotions! So in this chap we will follow Armie's day and in the next one, we will see Timmy start his new job and then the boys will go out to celebrate! Then there will be a little time jump of six weeks and finally (finallyyyyy) something sweet will happen, I promise! ;) So please stick with me a little while longer...

Chapter 5: big boys cry

_Thursday_

The sky is still dark when Doc wakes up, unsettled by the weird dream he just had. Archie jumps on the bed, licking his face, asking for cuddles and breakfast, and his human can't do anything else but comply: he pets the little dog, running his hands through the short curly fur of the puppy, then gets up and whistles, so Archie follows him outside the room.

Armie is about to go downstairs, but he feels like something is keeping him from moving further. He peers at Timmy's bedroom door, and he knows his fear it's stupid, he knows the boy is still there, but despite being aware that dreams are not real, just a projection of our anxieties, he can't help himself: he silently approaches the door, pushes the handle and opens it slowly. Timmy is sleeping heavily, his mouth open, his hair flat on his forehead, arms and legs spread over the duvet. He looks peaceful and innocent. Armie sighs in relief, smiles, then closes the door.

A few hours later, he is behind the hospital's reception desk, trying without much success to understand how to find his last patient's medical report on one of those new computers with the latest, super modern operative system, _Windows_ or whatever the hell is it called. The only thing Armie knows, is that he has just wasted twenty minutes clicking on anything can be clicked on, but the record is still missing. He wants to punch the screen, but then the hospital would charge him for the purchase of a new computer, and this fuckers are unbelievably expensive, so he calms down, breathes deeply, closes his eyes for some seconds. And when he does, he relives the dream again:

_he was walking in a heavenly place, a garden, with lots of fruit trees: apples, apricots, peaches; the sun was shining and it was hot, but nice; there was a table with chairs in a corner, and a deckchair; a small pool made of stone with clean, chilled water in it; everything was so peaceful and calm, and Armie had felt relaxed and welcomed; then he had seen someone moving through the trees, and had followed them: a naked boy was walking slowly into the garden, he had his back on Armie so he couldn't see his face, but he had dark curly hair and pale skin and long limbs, so it hadn't been difficult for him to identify in that boy his friend and housemate._

_“Timmy!” he had called the boy, hoping for him to turn around and see that Armie was there; “Timmy, please, stop” he had begged him when the boy had kept walking, without even acknowledging the man's presence behind him. Armie had felt a horrible, cold thrill going down his spine, and then the boy had disappeared._

Now, it's not like Armie believes in the power of dreams, or premonitions, or other spiritual bullshit: he is a doctor, he only believes in science. But in some way, that dream has left him upset and nervous, so much that he had to check on Timmy when he woke up.

There is a small radio in the reception, brought in by one of the nurses who loves listening to the music while working: Armie turns it on, straightens the antenna, spins the knob until the sound becomes clear and steady, and then goes back to the damn computer. After a few minutes, the radio station passes a song Armie hadn't heard in years:

_I can't fight this feeling any longer  
And yet I'm still afraid to let it flow  
What started out as friendship has grown stronger  
I only wish I had the strength to let it show_

_I tell myself that I can't hold out forever  
I said there is no reason for my fear  
'Cause I feel so secure when we're together  
You give my life direction  
You make everything so clear_

_And even as I wander  
I'm keeping you in sight  
You're a candle in the window  
On a cold, dark winter's night  
And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might_

_And I can't fight this feeling anymore..._

Armie smiles: his wife used to love this song. She was an hopeless romantic soul. And she did believe in dreams, premonitions and all those spiritual bullshit: if she were there now, she would tell him there is a reason he had that strange dream, a kind of warning. Maybe his fear of losing Timmy had something to do with last night's kiss? Is it something Armie did, or didn't? Something Timmy had expected him to do, or say, because of that kiss? Honestly, Armie isn't worried or pissed off about the kiss, the exact opposite, actually: he has enjoyed it, very much. It had felt spontaneous, warm, truthful. Just as anything else about Timmy.

When the song is over, the doctor glances at the phone, takes a deep breath, and picks up the receiver. He dials his own house's number and waits.

“Hello?!” a breathless voice greets him on the other end.

“Hey, it's me” he just says, “What are you up to? You sound like you were running. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I literally just came back home” Timmy explains, catching his breath “I heard the phone ringing from outside the door, and I was afraid to miss the call. How are you?” he enquires, and Armie rolls his eyes.

“I'm trying to pretend I have some kind of interest in learning how to play with this damn machine you kids like so much” he states, annoyed.

“Uhm... maybe you should join me to the college and take a course” Timmy mocks him, and Armie can literally hear him smiling.

“Shut up, you silly boy. Where have you been? More shopping?” Doc asks curious.

“No! You got me so much stuff yesterday to be enough for the rest of my life” the young man laughs. “I went out for a walk with Archie, Gemma and her husband. Oh my God, they are so cute together! She never stopped talking for two hours, while he barely said three words in a row”.

Armie chuckles.

“Yeah, they have always been like that, since I was a child. They are a perfect balanced couple”. The doctor smiles fondly, almost jealous of the two elderly friends of his: they have been married for almost fifty years now, and they love each other like the first day. That's something Armie will never have, not anymore.

“Did you need to tell me anything?” Timmy's voice wakes Armie up, and he tries to put in words why he called.

“Yes, I do indeed. Listen, Timmy, about the kiss...”

“I know, I'm sorry” the boy interrupts him roughly, “I don't know why I did it, but it will never happen again, I promise” he rumbles, sounding remorseful. Armie frowns.

“Why? I mean, I didn't mind” the man shrugs, “You felt it was the right thing to do in that moment, and you just did it. It's fine, really! Please, don't even think you can't be yourself around me, because you can” he explains, a sweet tone in his voice. There is silence at the other end of the call, and after a few seconds Armie hears a sigh of relief.

“I thought you felt like I was... you know... hitting on you” Timmy reveals, shyly. Doc can't suppress a laugh.

“Do you have such a sad range of choice, that you have to settle for me?” he jokes, but the boy's reply sounds serious.

“Will you ever stop with this self deprecation, Armie?” he scolds the older man, a warmth in his voice that shows all his feelings towards him. “You are amazing, Doc. You are the best man I've ever known” he whispers the last few words, but Armie has heard them perfectly. No one speaks for a while, then Doc has to go back to work.

“I shall see you tonight” he says then. He waits for Timmy to say goodbye, then hangs up. When he raises his gaze towards the desk, he realizes that Lauren and other four nurses are staring at him. He seems confused.

“What?” he asks rudely.

“You are smiling” Lauren simply replies.

“So? I smile all the time” he tries to defend himself. And why does he even need to get defensive, anyway? That's none of their damn business.

“No, you don't” the head nurse accuses him, “Last time I saw your teeth, the wall of Berlin was still standing” she mocks him, and the other nurses giggle. Armie is super annoyed, so he decides to play along.

“Wait, it's not a smile, it's a facial paralysis!” he shouts, touching his cheeks, “Oh shit, I'm having a stroke!” he puts a hand on his chest and pretends to collapse on the desk. The nurses laugh loudly, while Lauren performs an eye-roll which deserves to be included in the world guinness record. Armie takes advantage of their distraction to free himself and run away, but Lauren chaises him in the hallway.

“You're seeing someone” she hisses. It's not a question.

“I see you, unfortunately” Doc tells her while trying to walk away.

“You know I would be more than happy if you could settle down and find someone” she reminds him a conversation they already had dozens of times. Definitely too many times. They enter the elevator for the fifth floor, where Armie has a shift in Oncology (as the day didn't suck enough so far). Lauren taps her foot on the floor for a minute, then surrenders to Armie's stubbornness and goes for a change of subject.

“What about your foster kid?” she enquires, suspicious. Armie panics.

“What about him?” he echoes her, trying to stay cool.

“Is he still at your home? Did you let him there alone? How do you know he won't burgle your house and never come back?” Lauren questions him quickly. Doc smirks at her.

“A second edition of the _Sergeant Pepper_ album is literally the only expensive item I own, and I frankly doubt he has any clue about who the hell the Beatles are” Armie laughs, “And anyway, he doesn't need to rob me. He has a job now” he says with a malicious spark in his eyes, “A certain Danny Gorman owed me a favor...”

Lauren's eyes widen in shock.

“Did you blackmail my husband to make him hire your little scoundrel?!” she yells at him. Yes, Lauren is Mr Gorman's wife, and Armie thinks there is something wickedly funny in this. It's a very small world.

“He's not a scoundrel, he's a good boy” Doc corrects her “And I didn't _blackmail_ anyone, I just asked kindly. You should try sometimes” he says dryly while the elevator's doors open. Armie heads out towards the Oncology wing (wishing to be literally anywhere else) and hopes the chat is finally over

“I'm pretty sure you pressured him!” Lauren shouts from the elevator.

“Well, he's married to you, so he's used to be bossed around” Doc replies while keeping walking, and the elevator's doors slide closed in front of a defeated Lauren.

\---

The moment he closes the door of his home and leans on it, Armie feels like he can breathe again. The shift in Oncology had been an endless nightmare: the white walls, the smell of hand sanitizer, the patients going and coming back from their chemo session. The families, waiting half an hour to go inside and only being allowed to stay for fifteen minutes, and when they leave the room, the awareness that those could have been the last fifteen minutes they will ever spend with their beloved ones is written on their faces. Three years before, Armie had been lucky: as a doctor working in that hospital, he was allowed to stay with his wife all the time, when he wasn't on shift. Sometimes, he didn't go back home for days: he finished his shift, then went to his wife, stayed with her for some hours, then started another shift, and like this again, until his clothes stank too much and his stubble started becoming itchy and he was forced to go home.

Armie remembers everything: his wife's smile when she saw him, her strength, her encouraging words until the very end; her weight going down and down, her face becoming paler every day, her screams of pain when the morphine stopped having any effect. He remembers everything, and every time he goes back to the fifth floor, is like rewinding a tape and rewatch that same, horrible movie again and again and again.

The doctor leans on the door for a minute, his eyes shut tight, trying to fight the tears. He is so focused on keeping himself together, that he doesn't even notice the music filling the air: someone is singing, a masculine voice, powerful, in a foreign language. Armie tries to come back on earth, inhales and exhales slowly, until his ears seem to work properly again, and Pavarotti's voice welcomes him home.

Doc enters the living room and Timmy is on the couch, legs crossed, hands on his knees, eyes closed: he looks relaxed, but centered. He probably doesn't understand a single word (the _aria_ from the opera he is listening on a vinyl is in italian), but the music and the voice of the tenor are unmistakable: there are pain, sadness, tragedy going on in the song, and the fact that Timmy's eyebrows keep moving at every line of the lyric shows that he is sensing the feelings. He is listening, not only hearing. Armie stares at him smirking until the music stops and the stylus moves to the side of the vinyl.

“I see you met _Tosca_ ” the man says calmly, but Timmy jumps and gasps when his trance gets interrupted.

“Jesus, Armie, you scared the shit out of me!” he yells, then giggles nervously.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to” the man apologies, “You seemed to be lost in the music. Did you enjoy it?”

Timmy looks torn and pensive for a moment, then nods.

“Yeah, even if I didn't get the story, but the voices were so powerful and there were so many emotions involved!” he says, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I bet it must be something to watch it live in a theatre, with a real symphony and everything”

“Yes, it is” Armie confirms. He remembers last time he went to see a show with his wife: she was wearing that blue dress he liked so much, and after the play they had gone for dinner in a Greek restaurant, where the menu was written in actual Greek, so they ordered random stuff, laughing all the time. Timmy catches a glimpse of sadness in Armie's eyes and immediately knows what (or better, who) he is thinking about.

They have dinner (Gemma helped Timmy make some grocery shopping and cook some lamb and vegetables after their walk) and the boy asks Doc how his day was, but when the older man replies with a dry “Good”, Timmy gets the hint and doesn't inquire further.

After dinner they settle on the couch, with a tea and a shared blanket, and Armie asks which movie Timmy wants to watch. The boy gazes at him and just says:

“I would like to know about her”

Armie stares at the lad for a moment, taken aback by that sudden, strange request.

“Are you my therapist now?” he tries to joke, but Timmy's expression is serious and adamant, and after the shitty day he just had, Armie could really use some time to vent out his frustration a little bit. He slightly shifts his body on the couch, so now the two men are facing each other, and sighs deeply before speaking: “I'm sorry if sometimes I get sad or grumpy, but it's just very difficult for me to let her go” he says, looking down, fiddling nervously with the blanket. Timmy puts his hand on Armie's one, to reassure him.

“What was her name? You never told me”

Doc turns his head towards the shelf and looks at her picture, smiling.

“Her name was Yvonne. She was a teacher. She loved her job so much! She always said that while doctors fix people's bodies, teachers fix people's minds” he remembers and turns to Timmy.

“Well, that makes sense” the lad confirms (his hand still softly leaning on Armie's hand, but apparently neither of them seems to be bothered).

“We met in college, second year” Armie continues, “I went to a philosophy seminar because I needed extra credits for an exam, and she was there. I sat next to her and asked her what the seminar was about, and when she smiled at me, I was smitten. But at the time I was totally focused on my studies, I wasn't looking for a relationship, so I didn't ask her for a date, even if I wanted to. However, from that moment, everywhere I went, she was there too: I went to the library and she was there. I went to a party and guess what? She was there!” Doc laughs and Timmy smiles back at him. “I don't know if she was chasing me or if it was just a coincidence, but after a few months I couldn't bear it anymore, so I finally asked her out and, well, you can imagine the rest of the story” he chuckles, moving a hand to point at the room around them.

“Who said _I love you_ first?” Timmy asks, eager to know more.

“Her, of course!” Armie says like it was obvious, “She did everything first: she kissed me, she said she loved me first. One day she brought her toothbrush and her coffee mug in my apartment and suddenly we were living together! Oh, and she _made me_ propose to her” he adds, raising his eyebrows and making a funny face. Timmy laughs.

“What do you mean _she made you_?”

“Well, after four years into our relationship she went to the most expensive jewelry in town and bought her favorite ring, then put it into my jacket and invited me out to dinner. During the meal she told me to check my pockets. I thought she had a surprise present for me, instead I found this little square box and when I opened it, she just said: 'Oh, I guess you want to ask me something'. I stared at her like an idiot for at least two minutes before realize what the hell was happening!” Doc laughs loudly and free, and Timmy mirrors him, happy and thankful for those shared precious memories. Suddenly Armie stops laughing, his eyes lose the sparkle, and he squeezes Timmy's hand. “She was the best thing I've ever had. She was... everything” he whispers, his voice cracking while desperation overwhelms him and tears start flooding.

Immediately, Timmy hugs him tight, putting his head on his own shoulder so he can cry there and lean on him. He silently rubs Armie's back, patiently waiting for him to let it out, not rushing him, making him feel that he is there, with him, for him. After a while, Armie disentangles himself from the embrace and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, I shouldn't... that's pathetic” he murmurs, trying to pull himself together, hiding his red rimmed eyes, but Timmy is not going to take any of that shit, not tonight, not after Armie finally opened up with him about his grieving.

“No, it's not pathetic, Armie, please look at me” Timmy says, taking the man's face in his hands and holding it, gently but steadily, “Don't ever think, even for a moment, that you have to hide your pain from me, because you don't!” the boy reassures him, and suddenly he looks older and wiser all at once. Armie closes his eyes, relishing in the touch, but he feels like he doesn't deserve all that empathy and compassion.

“She died because of me, because of my selfishness” the man confesses, letting go a secret he never told anyone, even his own family: “I told you we tried to conceive a child a few years after the wedding, but she had always wanted a baby, she wanted to start a family right after we got married, but I was still studying at the time, and then I started my residency at the hospital, and I told her it wasn't a good time to have a child because I was too busy and we hadn't enough money, and then there was always something more important, more urgent... when we started trying to conceive, and the baby never came, we went to the doctor and found out she had a cervical cancer, but it was too late, it was too extended and there were metastasis in other organs too” Armie talks fast, a flood of words that seems to never stop now that has been started. “If I hadn't been so stupid, so selfish, maybe we would have discovered the cancer earlier, maybe she could have received a better treatment, a cure... maybe she would be still alive”

“You can't know this for sure!” Timmy tries to talk some sense into the man, “You just wanted to be ready to be a father, and you weren't ready in the same moment she was. That's it. It's nobody's fault that she died, and definitely not your fault” he states, never breaking eye contact. Armie shakes his head, stubborn as always, but doesn't reply. Instead, he puts his head back on Timmy's shoulder. The boy stiffs for a second, unsure about Armie's intentions, but then relaxes and wraps his arms softly around the man's body.

They stay like this for a few minutes, until Timmy realizes that Armie has fallen asleep: his breath is slower, his body has finally stopped shaking. Timmy gently lays Armie down on the couch, putting a cushion under his head and spreading the blanket all over his legs and torso. He kisses his forehead, stares at him for some more seconds, then whispers:

“I wish I could take all this pain out of you and make it mine”

\---- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Armie listens to the radio is this one ---> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmo36gnUCWE
> 
> The aria from the "Tosca" that Timmy listens at home is this one ---> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK27yI0tIkA (it's pretty famous)


	6. What would Gemma do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy faces his first day at work. The boys go out to celebrate, and then Timmy makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!! There we are with a new chapter, I didn't even re-read it, I'm just posting it before I go to bed. I'll make corrections tomorrow from work (yes, I'm one of the lucky ones that will work on Xmas day... hooray! *sarcasm*) A couple of things before you read:  
> the George is a real pub in Dublin, the first and most famous LGBTQ+ pub in Ireland, opened in 1985 when homosexuality was considered illegal! It's one of my favorite places in the city center and I can't wait to go back there!  
> In the next chap there will be a time leap of six weeks, and something very sweet will happen...

Chapter 6: what would Gemma do

_Friday_

“ _Timmy, please stop” Armie is in the garden again, and the naked boy is still there, his back towards him, ignoring the sound of his voice. He is walking slowly, very slowly, and yet Armie can't reach him; he feels frustrated, wants to scream, but when he tries to speak again, no noise escapes his lips. He stretches an arm in an attempt to reach Timmy's shoulder, but as much as he struggles, he still can't get close to the boy. The sky suddenly becomes gray and covered with threatening clouds._

At 6:13am, doctor Hammer wakes up with a jolt and a loud grunt, and finds himself on the couch, the blanket tangled with his legs, and Archie on top of him, licking his face and demanding attention and food.

“Ok, ok, daddy is awake” Armie says, moving his head on the sides, his neck painfully stiff. He needs to buy a new couch, bigger and more comfortable, with ergonomic cushions. He feeds his puppy and quickly swallows a yoghurt, then goes out for a walk with Archie: the sky is clear and dark blue, it's cold but dry, and the stars and moon are still visible. Soon it will be spring, the temperature will raise, the birds will come back, and the leaves will be green again. Armie can't wait to have some holidays; someone told him that northern Italy it's particularly wonderful in early summer.

He gets home an hour later, feeling rested, relaxed and full of energy. He starts making breakfast for himself and Timmy: today is a big day for his young friend, he will face his first work shift at the warehouse. It's a hard job, mostly physical, so he will need as much calories as he can engulf. Armie is going to walk a part of the way with Timmy, take him to the warehouse and then head for the hospital. He hopes that Timmy will like the job, that he won't find it too difficult, that the other people working there will be nice to him. He imagines Timmy staying with him, in his house, for a few months, until he will have some savings and will be able to afford a place on his own; that thought makes him feel suddenly sad and gloomy: the house will be so empty and silent without him, just like it was before, like it had been in the last three years. Armie shakes his head to make that thought disappear.

About 8am Timmy shows up in the kitchen: he's wearing gray cargo pants, a white t-shirt and his old oversized leather jacket (the one he wore the day he met Armie). He is scratching his eye, still half asleep, and his hair is a mess as always. Doc peeps at him and chuckles.

“If you look like this now, I can't imagine how will you be at 5pm!” he mocks the lad, receiving a whine as an answer.

“I couldn't sleep last night, I was too anxious” Timmy reveals, sitting at the table and aiming at the coffee jar, “I never had a job like this. What if I don't know what to do? What if I screw everything up as always?” he expresses his fears aloud, searching Armie's gaze for some advice and a little courage. The doctor sits in front of him and rests his hands on the table, palms flat, taking a deep breath before speaking:

“It's ok if you do something stupid on your first day, Timmy, we are human, we make mistakes. Just go there, do your best, listen to the other people with more experience and try to take as much as you can” Doc suggests him, smiling patiently, “And if at the end of the day you really hate the job, you can always find another one. It's not the end of the world. Mr Gorman won't feel insulted if you realize this isn't what you were looking for” he reassures the young man, hoping his little pep talk has helped him calm down. Timmy sighs.

“I'm just scared to do something really wrong and piss off all the other workers” the boy replies, sinking the spoon into a bowl of porridge, “They will end up hating me, I will always be that idiot who screwed up things on his very first day!”

Armie glances at him with fondness.

“Do you know what I did on my first day at the hospital? I spilled a tray full of urine samples” Doc laughs at the memory, and Timmy stares at him with wide eyes and gaping mouth. “Not only I had to clean up all that mess, but I spent the entire day stinking of pee like a public toilette!” They both laugh, and the younger man feels definitely better. Armie bites his bacon, then comes up with a good advice. “Any time you feel insecure or doubtful about something, think like this: what would Gemma do? Would she do the task? If the answer is no, then don't do it!” he points a finger towards his friend. Timmy nods, then they both go back to their food.

“Listen, about last night” Armie starts, all of a sudden “I'm not sure if I should say thank you or sorry, honestly, but... it was really nice to talk about, you know, stuff” he waves an hand, trying to seem chill.

“You don't need to say anything” Timmy states, stretching an arm across the table and touching Armie's hand, “I told you, I'm here if you want to talk more. I know sometimes I do and say silly things, but I'm a good listener” he grins, “Sorry if I left you sleeping on the couch, by the way. I wasn't sure I could lift you up and take you to your room” the boy jokes and they laugh again. Armie could get used to this, talking and laughing and feeling light and positive. Feeling good.

“You can talk to me too, if you want” Doc offers.

“About what?” Timmy asks while chewing a big bite of scrambled eggs.

“Well, for example about your family” Armie tries, pretending not to care (when actually that's a thought that is haunting him since the day they met), “Who are your parents? Where are they and why did you never call them?” he enquires. Timmy keeps eating for a while, then he takes his dish and cutlery and stands up, goes to the sink and starts washing them.

“My wonderful, lovely parents kicked me out of their house the moment I told them I was a fa... uhm, I was homosexual” he corrects himself before Armie can scold him again, “And that's the only thing you need to know about them. Now let's go or I'll be late on my first work day!”

\---

They walk in silence to the warehouse, even if from time to time their arms brush and they giggle awkwardly. When they reach their destination, Armie says _good luck_ to Timmy and winks at him. The boy checks around and when he's sure nobody is watching them, he raises on his tippy toes and plants a peck on Armie's cheek (actually almost on the corner of his lips, but not on purpose), then runs away towards the entrance of the building without looking back, his face red like a pepper.

“Ha! That's my favorite lad!” Danny Gorman welcomes him, squeezing his shoulder with his large, rough hand. The man is always on a good mood and Timmy would like to ask him which kind of drugs he uses to be constantly so happy: it's definitely something the boy has never tried (and Timmy has basically tried everything at least once, but nothing that had such a positive effect).

Mr Gorman gives Timmy a tour of the warehouse, showing him the offices and explaining him who does what, taking his time even if he's super busy; they spend almost two hours going around, watching other people work, getting used to the noises of the place, and Danny introduces the lad to some of his co-workers. After a while, the older man says:

“I don't know about you, but I'm fucking starving” he pats his belly and laughs, “Let's go get a sausage roll, or maybe seven” he scans the boy from head to toe “You look famished, lad!”. They go eat in a nice place with a deli and some tables outside: it's a wonderful day, cold but sunny.

“Did you know my wife works with Armie?” Mr Gorman asks while munching some pretzels, and Timmy shakes his head. “Yeah, she gives him a hard time sometimes, but it's because she cares about him. He has always been like a son to us, and she feels very protective with him, especially after what happened in Galway”

_What happened in Galway?_ Timmy wants to ask, but then decides to wait when (and if) Armie will be ready to talk about it with him. There is plenty of time.

The two men go back to the warehouse and Mr Gorman has some work to do in his office, so he leaves Timmy with his youngest son, Anthony, an incredibly tall guy (even taller than Armie). He takes Timmy to the back of the building, where a huge amount of boxes are stocked, then gives him a notebook, a pen and a roll of yellow stickers.

“Look, the task is simple: some of these boxes are not supposed to be here, and they need to be sent back to the UK. When you see this code on the box” he points at a code written on the first page of the notebook “you put one of these yellow stickers on the corner of the box, just above the address, and write the address and the postal code on this notebook. There is no rush to finish it today, so you can take your time. If a box is too heavy to move, you can use that cart to lift it and move it aside. Just try not to hurt your back, some of these shit are very heavy” the boy makes sure of warning Timmy about anything, then leaves him to the task and goes back to the main building. Timmy rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt up his shoulders.

“Alright, that's why we're here!” he says to himself and starts his work.

He takes almost three hours to finish, feeling his back and arms stiff and souring for the physical effort of moving the boxes around. He can't wait to go home, take a shower and have some dinner.

\---

Doc comes back home around 7pm, bringing groceries, and the boys make a quick dinner with turkey, mashed potatoes and vegetables.

“So, how was your day?” Armie asks, eager to know: he has spent the whole day worrying about Timmy, and had to literally restrain himself from calling Danny's office and enquire. He would have looked like a psycho stalker. It had been a torture not to know until evening. Timmy smiles genuinely.

“Honestly, I feel tired but satisfied, like I just did something important, something worthy, you know?” he tells, eyes sparkling with pride, “Well, of course you know, you're a damn doctor. You're the real hero around here” the boy praises Armie, and they both laugh. Suddenly Doc seems to remember something:

“Shit, I wanted to buy a couple of beers to celebrate your first day of work but I forgot” he says, rubbing a hand on his face, “I suppose I'm just exhausted”.

Timmy stares at him for a moment, then goes back to his dinner, takes a few bites, then suggests tentatively:

“What if we go out tonight? To celebrate” he smiles, blushing a little. “There is a place I really want to take you, a place that I love very much”

Armie thinks about it for a minute: what can go wrong in spend a couple of hours outside? He hasn't been anywhere else except the hospital and the supermarket since... oh, what the hell.

“Ok, great, let's go!” he replies with more enthusiasm than Timmy had expected.

\---

_The George_ is the first and most important queer pub in Dublin: he was open in 1985, when homosexuality was still considered illegal in the whole Country. It's friday night so it's obviously packed with people: local customers, regulars, simple curious tourists. Armie and Timmy patiently follow the queue to the entrance, and the bouncer smiles and greets the younger boy with a tight embrace when he sees him. They go inside and Armie chuckles.

“You clearly come here often”

Timmy smirks slyly.

“That's the place I used to come when I had to hide away from Pat, which happened a lot” he reveals.

The pub is not very big, but colorful and peculiarly decorated: there are golden statues on the top of some pillars, a small stage in the center of the room, disco balls all over the ceiling and strobe lights. There is an upper ground floor with tables and stools where people can eat and drink. In the middle of the main room, dozens of bodies are already sweating and moving to the beat of music. Timmy makes a beeline for the center of the stage, trying to drag Armie with him, but the doctor has no intention of humiliate himself.

“Absolutely not” he says, laughing and shaking his head.

“Pleeeeease!” Timmy pouts and makes puppy eyes. Doc can't escape: he lets the boy taking his hand and bringing him on the small stage, and they start dancing. Well, at least one of them is dancing: Armie barely taps his feet on the floor and moves his head. He stares at Timmy in absolute awe: the boy is utterly beautiful tonight, wearing a black tank top, bleached jeans and boots; his mohawk is fixed with some hair gel, and he has eyeliner and mascara on his eyes, his lashes so long that they make a shadow on his cheekbones when he moves under the strobe lights. He is dancing like this is his last day on earth, spinning around Armie, swinging his shoulders, even making a perfect _moonwalk_. He tries to show the older man some moves, laughing, throwing his arms around Armie's neck. The doctor is blushing, but thankfully the room is too dark for anyone to notice. A boy comes around with the clear purpose to approach Timmy (who has his eyes closed and doesn't see him), but when he realizes that Timmy is there with the blonde giant, he immediately backs off, totally intimidated by the man. Armie feels something strange on the bottom of his stomach, like a kind of manly satisfaction, but decides to ignore it.

After a while, Timmy gives Armie a break: he could keep dancing for the whole night, but he senses the other man's discomfort, so he pretends to be thirsty and leads the man upstairs, where they take a table and patiently wait for one of the waitresses to order some booze (just one drink, though, because Armie has a shift to the ER the following afternoon). A girl with pink hair and glitter make up greets them: she is carrying a tray with some food for another table, and the smell of the fresh chips is amazing.

“Can we have two beers, please?” Armie asks “And a pot of fries?” he adds and Timmy smiles at him with gratitude. A few minutes later, their order comes: they sip their beers, enjoying the feeling of the chilled liquid flowing down their throats and cooling down their hot bodies; they put the chips in the center of the table and share them, and while they pick them, they keep brushing their fingers together, giggling for no reason. Armie would never admit it, but maybe a couple of times he touches Timmy on purpose, just to make him laugh. But only a couple of times, really. Maybe three, surely not more than four.

For the first time in a long, long time, Armie feels happy and reckless; he feels like he could do something crazy and unexpected, like joining the three drag queens on stage and sing _I will survive_ with them (and if there is something Armie really can't do, besides dancing, is exactly singing, but he would do it anyway, just to make Timmy laugh more). He glances at the boy, meets his gaze, and time seems to slow down, the music disappears, the crowd around them vanishes: they are alone in the pub, smiling at each other, their hearts beating loud and fast, their skins hot and damp. Armie could stay like this forever. He hopes the night will never end, and the pub will never close. He doesn't want to go back home. He enjoys the simple sight of Timmy, his eyes shining like two gemstones, his cheeks flushed red for the dancing, his lips curved in the sweetest smile. Everything is perfect, like in a dream... until Timmy looks behind Armie, shouts something and waves his hand, inviting someone to join them. Doc turns around and sees four boys walking straight to their table. Timmy stands up and hugs the boys one by one, shaking their hands, bumping fists, looking euphoric to meet them.

“Armie, these are my friends: Niall, Chris, Jamal and Shaun” Timmy introduces them to the doctor, while the boys take four chairs from other tables around and join the pair, sitting two on each side, so now both Timmy and Armie are surrounded on their sides.

Shaun... Armie has heard that name already. He studies the boy's features: he is skinny, blonde, a cold gaze. There is something in that boy that makes all Armie's senses going on alert. He doesn't like him, even if he just met him. The other boys are all similar, except for Jamal who has dark hair and tanned skin. They talk fast, using slang and words that Armie doesn't understand; Timmy is laughing savagely, and Doc feels a pang in his stomach.

“So, you are the friend who is hosting Timmy now” Shaun says, talking to Armie for the first time. The doctor is about to speak, but Timmy is faster:

“Yeah, he's been so kind to me, I don't even know where I would be without him” the boy glances at him with fondness, reaching out and squeezing his forearm gently, “He is my hero, seriously guys, I owe him my life” he admits, and Armie feels like he has been under water until that moment, and now he can go back to the surface and breath again. Shaun jokingly pokes Timmy's shoulder, mocking him.

Shaun... suddenly Armie knows who that boy is: he is the jerk who refused to land Timmy the money for the rent, the one Timmy called from Armie's phone the day they met. How can Timmy still want to be his friend? Why? Doesn't he know any other people? Better people? Armie scans the four boys while they keep talking and laughing: they look like travelers, and it's not like Armie has some kind of prejudice or something, he just knows the subjects (he sees them at the hospital every day, injured or bruised after a fight, sometimes even stabbed). He wonders what binds Timmy to these boys: he is so different from them, smarter, kinder, more polished. He is far, far better than them. Timmy among them looks like a diamond in a bucket full of coal.

“Let's take some shots!” one of the boys suggests, and before Armie can object, the waitress is already next to them, nodding and taking notes of the orders. When the shots come, Shaun pays with a fifty punts note, and Armie feels the anger rise: so the little shit has money for booze, but not for helping a friend.

“Let's make it more interesting” Shaun says, while passing the shots to the other people around the table, “Let's play _Never have I ever:_ each of us asks a question, and if the answer is yes, you have to drink!”. The other boys yell and howl with excitement, and Armie glances at Timmy: the boy smiles at him, almost apologetically. Shaun starts:

“Never have I ever... been arrested”

Everybody drink, except Armie. The doctor looks at Timmy in shock.

“It was a misunderstanding” the boy tries to defend himself, “I have been mistaken for someone else, I swear” he says, but the other boys laugh and make it clear that they know it's not true. Armie frowns. Another question:

“Never have I ever... being caught stealing”

Everybody drink, except Armie.

“Never have I ever... tried meth”

Again, five shots are gobbled. Armie stares at Timmy, raises his eyebrows meaning _Seriously?!_ Timmy shrugs, then lowers his eyes, feeling embarrassed.

“Never have I ever... had sex with more than one person at the same time”

The boys laugh loudly.

“Does it includes yourself?”

“Yeah, Chris, we know your hand is your only hope to fuck, you wanker!” They laugh louder. And again, they all swallow their shots, except Armie, who is still staring at Timmy like he never saw him before. Who is this boy? He doesn't know him.

“I was young and horny” Timmy justifies himself, shrinking more and more under Armie's gaze.

“Yeah, because now you are old, wise and your cock is dead!” Shaun screams and tries to grab Timmy's balls with his hand. Armie clenches his fists under the table. _Don't fucking touch him._ He hates this Shaun guy more and more every minute.

It's Timmy's turn to make a question. He avoids Doc's eyes.

“Never have I ever... had feelings for a person I just met”

Two of the boys drink. Then Timmy drinks too: he looks at Armie with a twinkle in his eyes, waiting for him to finally raise his glass, but Doc doesn't move a single muscle. He is the last one to make a question:

“Never have I ever... told a bunch of lies and pretended to be someone else just for my own profit” Armie's voice is low, cold and sharp like a knife, and he clearly sees Timmy's face going paler and his lips tremble, as if he was about to cry. The other boys are confused by that complicated question.

“I think we should go” Timmy says then, standing up, followed by the other boys and then Armie. That night, which had started like a wonderful dream, had turned out into a nightmare.

Before they go out of the pub, Timmy says goodbye to his so-called friends: Armie waits for him in front of the door, giving him some privacy, but never losing sight of him. He watches the boy talking to Shaun, their heads very close; he tries to read their lips, but the only thing he can catch is Timmy saying _I'll be there._ Then they bump their foreheads together, Shaun's hand on Timmy's nape, and Armie's guts almost burst on fire. He would gladly punch that fucker in the face. He knows that it's silly and immature for a man like him, a doctor, to be jealous of a kid, but still...

They walk home in silence and say goodnight without looking at each other.

\---

It's 4:25am when Timmy tries to sneak out of Armie's house. He moves slowly to avoid making noises, goes downstairs and is about to cross the living room and reach the door, when Armie's voice almost gives him a heart attack:

“Where are you going?” the doctor asks from the couch. Timmy jumps.

“Shit!” he yells, then turns towards the man in the dark room, “Armie, what the fuck are you doing down here?” he hisses, still in shock.

“I could make you the same question” Doc replies dryly. Timmy exhales, but doesn't answer. Armie stands up and reduces the distance between them. “I just want you to know that you don't need to run away in the middle of the night to meet your... _friend_ ” Doc says the last word like he meant something else. He clears his throat, then keeps talking: “This house is your house too, so if you want you can invite him here. You can watch tv or just stay in your room, I won't interrupt you, I can even go out and leave you two alone. I prefer to know you are here, safe and protected, rather then out there, where people could...” he stops his flow of words, a sudden pit in his stomach at the simple thought of Timmy being hurt by some homophobic bastard.

“Armie, what are you talking about?” Timmy asks, taken aback by that weird speech. “What friend?”

“Well, that Shaun guy. Are you going to meet him, aren't you? I saw you talking so close and then you said _I'll be there”_ Armie rumbles nervously, “Sorry, I didn't mean to spy on you, I just... I want you to know that you don't have to hide your boyfriend from me. You know I'm not a prude or something” he declares awkwardly.

Timmy is confused for a moment, then he grins broadly, his eyes searching Armie's gaze in the light of the moon coming from the window.

“He's not my boyfriend, Armie” he reveals, amused and a little shyly, “Shaun is straight and he has a girlfriend, she's a friend of mine too, they live together” he says, his voice full of hidden emotions. Armie frowns at the sound of that statement.

“So where are you going?” he enquires. Timmy seems to gather the right words.

“I told you I'm a street artist, and so are the boys you met last night. We are a gang, a group, and we have our territory where we make our murals. Sometimes we get _challenged_ by other gangs of street artists, that come at night into our territory and make their own murals. When this happens, we have to reply, to fight back, so we go into their territory at night and make our murals, and so on” he explains to Armie, who is totally unaware of this secret world.

“Sounds dangerous” the doctor observes, trying to keep calm.

“Yeah well, sometimes we get caught up, and the fight can get physical, but it doesn't happen so often, I swear! I'll be safe and home in a couple of hours” Timmy promises, but even if he sounds so sure and confident about it, like he had done it thousands of times, Armie is not persuaded.

“I'm sorry, I can't let you go” he states, putting his hands on Timmy's arms, holding him tight to keep him still, “It's not like I want to forbid you to see your friends, you can see them every time you want! Just... not like this. It's too risky” he begs the boy, who looks at him in confusion, visibly hurt.

“Armie, I told you, it's just a game”

“Please, Timmy. You said you want to help me feel better, right? So now I'm asking you to help me: please, allow me to keep you safe” the doctor implores him, the desperation clear in his voice. He has already lost someone important, he couldn't bare to go through all that again, he simply can't.

Timmy senses the tears prickling his eyes. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. He desperately wants to believe that his feelings for Armie are reciprocated, that the older man feels the same affection and attraction towards him.

“Will you be happier if I don't go?” Timmy asks, breathless, “Will you like me again?” he murmurs, and a tear falls across his cheek.

Armie cups the boy's face with his strong, warm hands.

“I couldn't like you more than I already do. I promise” he tells him, smiling with relief. Timmy nods, relishing in the touch of the man's palms.

“Then I'll stay” he simply pledges, his heart trembling into his chest.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!


	7. + 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring. A trip in a stunning place. A dinner. A kiss. A confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg this chapter is soooo long!!! I'm posting it without re-reading it, as usual. I will check for grammar mistakes tomorrow, I'm too tired now! Just a couple of things before you read:  
> as always, all the places described in this chapter are real (I advice you to google the Cliffs of Moher because they are spectacular!!)  
> pingin = Irish pence  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's my favorite so far! I finally managed a chapters' schedule, and they should be 10, so we're almost there!

Chapter 7: +1

_Six weeks later_

_Spring_

With its bright colors and sweet scents and warm sunny days, Spring had finally come to Dublin. Sunrise was getting earlier and earlier every morning, and it became natural for people to wake up and feeling the desire to go out, take a walk before going to the office, running or simply lingering under the sun, wearing t-shirts and leaving the skin get some color after a whole winter of paleness. The fine weather inspired everyone to travel more, to discover new places, to enjoy the high temperatures.

A saturday morning, Doc and Paul decide to go to the Cliffs of Moher, in county Clare, because Timmy had once said that he had never been there before. After their night to the _George,_ and Timmy's promise to never get involved into any street challenge again, everything had been good between them: they had kept living together, talking, having meals together as much as they could, going out sometimes for a movie or shopping, and being friends.

_Friends_.

Sure, neither of the men would have never risked to ruin that delicate, fragile balance which had been cemented between the two of them in the last weeks, so both of them had kept their true feelings very well hidden, from one another and from themselves, too. Truth was, they were both struggling with emotions they had never gone through before: Timmy was desperately (and hopelessly) in love with Armie, and he was trying, he was really trying to be a better person, to be like Armie expected him to be, to make the right choices, to do his best, and yet knowing that nothing he could do would have brought him the love of the man, because Armie was straight and he was still totally faithful to his wife.

If only the boy had known that Armie himself wasn't in better shape! The man was holding inside a boiling pot of affection, desire and obsession towards his housemate: when Timmy was around him, Armie felt happy and lucky; every time Timmy went out of the door, Armie's brain started to create thousands of different situations in which the lad could have been involved. Was he going to meet someone? Was he dating someone? Was he going to put himself in danger? Those thoughts made Armie crazy and, even if he had felt ashamed of it after, he had followed Timmy a couple of times, watching him from a safe distance, but only discovering that the lad was simply going to the barber or to the newspaper stand. Furthermore, he was scared by these new sensations he had started to experience when being physically close to the young man: he had to restrain himself from touching him all the time, because he was afraid of being inappropriate, but also because every time their skins came into contact, he felt a jolt of electricity all over his body, and he was scared that Timmy would have figured it out eventually and maybe come up with the wrong idea. Because that was nothing, wasn't it? Just a silly teenage crush, the simple result of being alone for so long. It didn't mean anything. It was just a phase. He was straight, he didn't like men. And even if he had stared at Timmy sleeping in his bed for several nights; even if he had once approached the boy from behind while he was washing dishes, silently inhaling the scent of his hair, glancing at his nape and burning with desire of licking the pale skin just there; even if he had spent almost the entire trilogy of _Star Wars_ looking at Timmy's lips and wondering how it would have been to kiss him... that didn't mean anything, right? Nothing. Just nothing. He wasn't like this, he wasn't queer.

But then, when he went to bed every night, he had kept having the same dream about following Timmy in that garden, but never being able to reach him. The more he walked and ran and called at him, the more the boy seemed to slip away from him, unaware of his presence. And when Armie woke up in the morning, he felt more and more frustrated and nervous and desperate, every inch of his skin prickling with hidden desire. Living with Timmy was becoming a nightmare, but the simple thought of him moving out to live somewhere else (with _someone else_ ) made Armie panic and freak out. He wanted the boy to stay under his same roof, he needed him there, he couldn't even think about letting him go. He knew this was insane, he knew he was being obsessed; he knew Timmy considered him a big brother, a friend, a mentor, but nothing else. He wasn't going to ruin what they had: a beautiful, deep friendship. He was going to get a grip, put himself together and be the best person he could be for Timmy. He could do this. He was strong enough.

Anyway, a sunny saturday morning the two men wake up earlier, have a big breakfast and head to O'Connel street to take the bus for the Cliffs of Moher.

“You'll love the place” Doc says to Timmy, smiling with excitement: he hasn't been to the Cliffs since he was in school, and he remembers the breathtaking view, the wind and the waves crashing on the rocks. After a couple of hours, the bus stops at the parking and they get out. It's a wonderful day, and the tourists are eager to take pictures with their brand new cameras. Timmy wears his sunglasses and his fisherman hat and grins at Armie, who is enjoying the rays of the sun on his face.

They walk for half an hour, until they reach the edge of the cliffs. The sky is incredibly blue, there isn't a single cloud and the seagulls fly free and wild around them. The ocean is a deep shade of green next to the rocks, then becomes dark blue as far as the eyes can look. The wind is strong as always, and Timmy has to hold his hat to avoid losing it. He reaches out and clutches Doc's arm with his own.

“It's so windy, I need you to save me from flying away!” he jokes, but Armie holds him tight and doesn't let him go for the entire time they walk on the edge. Someone turns around to look at them, but Armie couldn't care less. He feels millions of butterflies dancing in his stomach, especially when Timmy rests his head on the doctor's bicep, breathing deeply, looking happy and young and careless. Armie imagines himself pinching the boy's chin, lifting his head and kissing him right there, in front of all those tourists; he imagines their scandalized faces, and grins.

After a while, it's too cold and they decide to go back to the visitors center to buy some souvenirs at the gift shop. While they're walking, a young couple, a boy and a girl, stop them, talking to them in a language Armie doesn't understand immediately; the doctor only hears a flow of noises and he's going to apologize somehow, when something he hadn't expected happens: Timmy starts talking with the couple, looking confident and charming. Armie stares at the three young people shaking hands and laughing, and then the boy gives Timmy a camera, hugs the girl and Timmy snaps a picture, then another one, and a third one, just to be sure. He hands back the camera to the couple, hugs them both and they say hello to each other, the girl even blows him a kiss. When the couple is far from them, Armie asks:

“What the hell was that?”

“Oh, they asked for a picture” Timmy shrugs and smirks.

“Yeah but they were speaking in a weird way” Armie states, sounding confused and a little annoyed.

“It wasn't weird, it was just french!” Timmy reveals, laughing at the sudden dumbness of the doctor, who is usually very smart. Armie frowns deeply.

“And how come you speak french so well?”

“Because I'm half french” Timmy replies, sinking his hands in his pockets. “My father's family is from a little village in the south of France” he mumbles like this was nothing important.

“And why did you never tell me?” Armie stares at the boy with a pang in his guts: there are still so many things he doesn't know about Timmy, things he desperately wants to know. There are still so many things Timmy doesn't know about Armie, things he will never know.

“You never asked” the lad shrugs again, lightly swinging his shoulders, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. Doc feels like an idiot: he really never asked, but just because he remembers Timmy's uneasiness while talking about his parents. He is totally astonished by how Timmy never stops surprising him day after day. He has so much life behind him, and he is only 24 years old! It's like he already lived one hundred different lives, and Armie feels honored to be in this one. He gazes at the young man in front of him, smiling fondly.

“You're ridiculous” he says, but what he really means is _You're amazing._

_\---_

Every year, the hospital hosts a dinner to raise funds for the Irish Cancer Society: for eleven years, Armie had been invited to the dinner, and his +1 was, of course, his wife Yvonne. Then she died because of cancer, and Armie had stopped going to the dinner, even if he had received the invitation every year, as usual.

Monday morning, Lauren is making a list with all the people that wish to be invited to this year's dinner, and Armie shows up at the reception desk in the same moment a young nurse is giving her availability for the event. Lauren hides the list under a folder, worried about upsetting Armie; he had been in such a good mood in the last few weeks, she almost doesn't recognize him anymore: now he laughs, talks with patients, and he is even kind with her, even when she gives him hell with her sarcasm and bad temper. She is sure something is going on, but Doc is super discreet when it comes about his life outside the hospital; she has even asked her husband, Danny, to inquire with the foster kid at the warehouse, but Timmy had shrugged and said he didn't know anything about it. Which was true, in a way.

“What are you up to?” Armie asks to the two nurses, but while Lauren rumbles to find an excuse quickly, the younger woman spills the bean:

“Oh, Lauren is taking the names for the dinner's invitation. You should come, doctor Hammer!” she chirps and smiles broadly, touching her hair (basically all the nurses have a crush on Armie, even the married ones). Lauren performs a facepalm and Armie peers at her with a questioning look.

“Were you going to leave me out?” he asks, signing some records while he's there.

“No, of course not” she replies, unsure, “I just thought that, since you missed it for the last three years...”

“Add me to the list” Doc says dryly “And give me a +1, thanks” he adds, walking away towards the elevators. Lauren's eyes follow him and her jaw almost reaches the floor.

Armie comes back to an empty house. It's 6:00pm, Timmy should have finished his shift at the warehouse. Why isn't he home yet? Where could he be? Armie feels his heart beating faster and faster every second. He goes upstairs and opens Timmy's bedroom door: everything is there, his clothes, his books, his walkman. He didn't move out, then. Why would he do it, anyway? Running away without saying anything, it would be stupid and reckless. Armie and him have such a good relationship, there would be literally no reason for Timmy to leave the house now. Unless... Armie panics at the thought that something bad could have happened to the boy. He rushes downstairs and is about to wear his jacket and going back outside, when the door is opened and Timmy appears, smiling at him.

“Hi” the boy greets him “Were you going somewhere?” he adds when he sees the jacket in Armie's hand.

“Me? No, no I was... I just came back home, too” the doctor lies, his heart slowing down and his breath going back to a normal speed now that Timmy is home safe.

They have dinner, talking about their day at work; they wash dishes, and despite being Timmy's turn to clean up, Armie offers to help him: they stand in front of the sink, shoulders touching, in silence, Timmy passing Armie the dishes to rinse and put on the drying rack.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you something” Armie talks suddenly, seeming unsure, his voice trembling slightly, “There will be a charity event at the hospital on saturday evening, a dinner, and I was invited, and I can bring someone if I want to, so I was thinking that maybe, I don't know... I could bring you” he says, trying to be as cool as possible, actually freaking out inside. Timmy turns his head to look at him.

“I don't have anything proper to wear” he replies, and his own voice shakes a little with the effort to keep the emotion at bay.

“I will ask Gemma to come with you to my tailor, so you can pick something appropriate” Armie offers, totally focused on drying a fork. Timmy beams at him.

“Yes, Armie, I would be glad to come with you” he accepts, then blushes when he realizes the sound of what he just said. He coughs. “I mean, to come to the dinner with you” he corrects himself, blushing even more.

On friday afternoon, Gemma comes home to pick Timmy and take him to the tailor. She affectionately pinches his cheeks and kisses him on the forehead: the boy got used to the old woman's maternal gestures, and if he has to be honest, he had missed such tenderness very much. He was only seventeen when he had to leave his home, and since then he had received quite little kindness, if not any at all. Turns out Gemma's nephew (the one she called _particular)_ is an hairdresser, and Timmy really needs a decent haircut for the dinner, so the lady brings him to the shop where her nephew works. He is a funny guy, with purple hair and a lot of tattoos and piercings. Gemma hopes they can be friends, since they have the same age.

Around 7:30pm Timmy returns to home with a new haircut and a bag containing a suit in his arms. Doc stares at him when he heads to the living room: his long, messy curls have disappeared, and now he has tidy short hair. He looks painfully young, even younger than usual. Armie can't help himself but get closer to the boy, his own body literally pushed forward by an invisible force: he doesn't mean to move, but he is attracted to the lad like a satellite to his planet. He approaches Timmy and before he can even think about it, he lifts his arm and runs his hand through the boy's (now short) hair. He stops and freezes when Timmy leans into the touch and literally _purrs,_ closing his eyes and tilting his head to the side to meet Armie's palm. He seems so innocent and vulnerable in that moment, and Armie feels his stomach shrink and his guts going on fire. If only he had the courage to reach out and touch, he is sure Timmy would say _yes._ But then... he would lose him forever, and Armie can't absolutely lose him. He just can't. He suddenly takes his hand away from the lad, awkwardly walking backwards.

“You look good” Doc says then, blushing lightly.

Timmy nods. “Thanks”

“Do you have everything for tomorrow night?”

“Yes” the lad confirms, studying the pattern of the carpet under his feet, “I won't embarrass you, I promise” he whispers. Armie's heart sinks.

“You could never embarrass me, Timmy. What are you even talking about?” Doc asks in total disbelief.

“Well, you're bringing another man to a dinner with all your colleagues. I guess people will talk” the boy observes, shrugging.

“Yeah, so let's them talk” Armie replies dryly, raising his eyebrows, “Do you think I ever cared about what people thinks about me? I don't give a single shit, Timmy, and neither should you”

Timmy lifts his head and looks at the man in front of him.

“I just don't want to make your life more complicated, especially with your job. I know how important it is to you” the lad says in a low voice.

“You are important to me, too” Armie bursts out with a steady tone, “And you are making my life better, brighter, and you don't even know it” he confesses. The two men gaze at each other, neither of them brave enough to break the silence or close the distance. Timmy's eyes sparkle with something Armie can't really decode, and it scares him. He wants to take the young man into his arms and never let him go. He wants to crawl under his skin and become one with him. He doesn't know Timmy wants exactly the same and more. The lad wants to run into Armie's embrace and hold him tight, so tight that he will leave marks all over his body. He wants to open his chest, take his heart out and push it into Armie's chest: _it's yours now, I don't need it anymore_.

They stare at each other in silence for a while. Suddenly the phone rings, and they both jump, scared to the core. Armie walks to the cabinet and picks up the receiver.

“Hello? Oh, hi mum. Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. How are you?” the man talks flatly, almost mechanically. “Yeah, I'll be home on wednesday. Sure, I would love to see you” he peeks at the living room while talking, but Timmy is nowhere to be seen: he has ran away upstairs as soon as Armie has been distracted. The lad goes straight into his room, closes the door and leans on it, then slips down to the floor, sitting and holding his knees to his chest. His heart is pounding desperately in his ribcage, it could explode any minute now. He is crying and laughing at the same time, and he doesn't even know why.

_You are important to me... you are making my life better, brighter..._ Armie's voice echoes in his mind, and he feels himself taken away by a swirl of emotions. Could the man reciprocate his feelings? Would it be possible? Or is Timmy just deluding himself? Would Armie lie and make fun of him in such a cruel way? No, he wouldn't. He is the best man Timmy has ever known.

\---

Saturday evening, Armie is in the living room, waiting for Timmy: they are expected to be at the charity dinner about 8:00pm, and one of Armie's colleagues, Jim, is going to pick them up with his car at 7:30pm. Armie is wearing a blue suit that perfectly matches with his eyes; he shaved carefully and his hair is well combed and fixed with some gel. He looks dashing, and for the first time in ages, he feels attractive and confident. He feels good, really good. He is busy with fastening his watch when he hears Timmy's new shoes creaking down the stairs; he lifts his head and suddenly time stops (and probably his own heart stops, too): the young man in front of him is absolutely stunning in a black suit and a simple white shirt, hair combed straight and on the side, smiling nervously.

“Do I look ridiculous?” Timmy asks, sounding breathless like he had just ran a marathon.

“Totally” Armie confirms, trying to keep a serious face, “Totally ridiculous. We should stay home and watch _The Nanny_ ” he nods, and the two men burst in laugh at the same time.

The door bell rings and, when Armie opens the door, a tall, skinny man with brown hair, huge blue eyes and the sweetest face ever sighs dramatically:

“God, I had forgotten how sad and depressing this neighbourhood is!” he complains, arms along his slender body. He is wearing a green silk suit and white sneakers. Comfort first.

“Screw you” Armie replies, outraged (but not for real) and moves on the side to invite Jim to step inside. The man makes a beeline for the living room and almost has a shock when he sees the stranger boy.

“Oh, my Lord! Who is this beautiful angel?” he beams, lightly pinching Timmy's chin and moving his head left and right a couple of times, to better observe his features. Armie sniggers, well acquainted to the man's attitude.

“Jim, meet Timmy” Doc introduces the two men, “Timmy, this is my colleague and most beloved friend, Jim” he smiles fondly and pats the older man's back. Jim is still staring at Timmy, who is unsure if he should shake the doctor's hand or just say something.

“Holy guacamole, you look like a young Daniel Day-Lewis” Jim says to Timmy, who smiles and blushes furiously, glancing at the floor. “Oh dear, you have no idea who Daniel Day-Lewis is, do you?” Jim shakes his head, disappointed “Well, I guess you haven't had much time to learn after you've fallen from Heaven”

Armie laughs at the sight of Timmy shrinking and blushing under the storm of praises.

“Stop it, Jim, you're scaring him” Doc says.

Jim rolls his eyes at his friend.

“Come on, there is nothing to fear!” he turns to the boy “I'm just like an old lady in menopause, still trying to hit on young flesh but not really remembering _why_ ” he says ironically.

Timmy recalls Armie talking about this friend of his: he lost his partner because of the AIDS plague a few years before Armie lost his wife, and he hadn't had any other long term relationship since then. His boyfriend was the love of his life, just like Yvonne was the love of Armie's life. Suddenly Timmy feels melancholic: he wonders if he will ever have something like that for himself, an epic love story, a love that can defeat death. He hopes so.

\---

The charity dinner is set in a famous restaurant in the Docklands, one of the poshest areas in the city center. There are several round tables with golden chairs all around and tall flower arrangements in the center. A small band is playing live music in a corner, creating a relaxing and familiar atmosphere. All the guests are wearing elegant suits and fashionable dresses, along with expensive jewels. The three men sit next to each other, and Jim scolds Armie for having kept Timmy hidden from him all this time, then turns towards the boy:

“Whenever you get bored of this dummy here, I have a spare room in my house” he whispers, winking conspiratorially, “And I have a pool, because I know how to enjoy life, unlike someone else...” he looks at Armie and raises his eyebrows comically. They all laugh.

Dinner is served and the food is amazing: Timmy had only seen oysters in movies, but actually eating them is a cathartic experience. He drinks prosecco for the first time in his life, and wolfs down the slice of triple chocolate cake for dessert. Armie, on the other hand, is quite fed up with this useless display of wealth and power: all this rich bastards donate thousands of punts every year for the cancer research, and yet it wasn't enough to save his wife. So what's the point of all this? Why waste money, time and food if people still die? He is so annoyed and sick of everything right now... he starts drinking the moment they sit down at the table, and keeps going throughout the evening: scotch, prosecco, red wine, white wine, more scotch, he doesn't care until the booze keeps his thoughts quiet and his brain shut down. He is already drunk at the second course.

At the end of the dinner, Danny Gorman and his wife Lauren, who were late and had to sit at a different table, approach Armie and Jim to say hello. Mr Gorman hugs Timmy with the usual enthusiasm.

“Look at yah, lad! All polished and shiny like a _pingin_!!” the man praises his employee, and then introduces him to his wife. Lauren seems quite surprised at the sight of the young man: she looks at him, then at Armie, then at the boy again, and makes a weird smile, like someone who has just solved a riddle. She shakes Timmy's hand, peering at him. The band starts playing a slow music, and a few couples move towards the center of the room to dance. Jim claps his hands with a sudden excitement.

“I haven't been dancing for years!” he whoops, turning to Timmy and taking his hand “Please, please, don't make me ask Armie, he has two left feet” he begs the boy. Timmy laughs and nods, and the two men joins the other couples on the dance floor.

Armie watches them, smiling fondly: he doesn't need to be jealous of Jim, he knows the man has no real intentions towards Timmy. Lauren sits next to Armie and distracts him from the dancing pair.

“I thought you had a foster _kid_ ” she says, and Doc knows exactly what she's getting at, “But what I see is a grown up man. An handsome man, very attractive” she puts her hand on Armie's forearm and gazes at him with concern, “What are you doing, Armie? I know you have been in a deep pain, and you have felt alone for so long, but this... this is not you! This is wrong and unnatural and...” Armie stops her abruptly.

“Don't you dare tell me what's natural and what's not!” he shouts at Lauren, but luckily the music covers his outburst. “You know what's natural? Cancer! The one who took my wife away from me. So sorry if I don't fucking trust nature anymore” he says, burning with anger. He needs some air, so he leaves the room and heads out into the patio.

A few minutes go by, or maybe hours, when Armie feels the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder. He turns around and finds Jim's smile to welcome him.

“I think I'm drunk” Doc states.

“I think you're totally shitfaced” Jim corrects him, and they both laugh. “You don't have the _physique du r_ _ô_ _le_ to handle so much booze anymore”

“Don't insult me in french” Armie jokes, closing his eyes, “I already have someone at home who can do it, and better than you”

Jim smiles. “He is amazing, I hope you know it” and he doesn't need to clarify who is he talking about. Armie sighs deeply: of course he knows it. Jim puts his hands on his hips: “And just to be clear, you better know that the moment he dumps you -because he will dump you, eventually- I will be right there, outside the door, with my heart in one hand, and a ring with a diamond as big as my balls in the other one!” he proclaims seriously.

“Then it will be a very small diamond” Armie replies dryly, the corner of his lips twitching with an hidden laugh. Jim gives him a glance from head to toe.

“Still bigger than your dick, _Priscilla_ ” he bursts out, and Armie makes a scandalized face. After a few seconds, they are both laughing, loud and free.

Jim brings Armie and Timmy back home. Since Armie had kept drinking all night long, now he is unable to go upstairs on his feet, so the other two men have to support him on both sides and carry him into his bedroom. They lay him on the bed, and Timmy takes his shoes off, then covers him with the duvet. Before going out, Jim gently squeezes Timmy's hand.

“Be patient with him, he's been in a very dark place for so long, he's not used to the light anymore” he tells the boy, and Timmy can literally feel on his skin the true affection that binds the two doctors. He nods and walks Jim to the door.

After showering and wearing his pajama, Timmy heads to Armie's bedroom to check on him: the man is sleeping, peacefully and deeply. The boy slowly approaches the bed, being very careful not to make noise, and sits on the edge, next to Armie: he studies the man's features, from his wide forehead to his perfect nose, from the stubble on his chin to the tiny wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. Armie is utterly handsome, and what makes him even more irresistible is the fact that he doesn't even know how attractive he is. He is also smart, funny and kind; he is respectful and caring. He is everything a man should be, and more. Timmy stares at him, realizing how much he loves him, and his heart shrinks in his chest at the thought that this love is impossible, for the reasons he very well knows. He would be so happy if once, just once, he could kiss Armie: feeling the warmth of his lips, the tingle of his stubble, his strong chest under Timmy's hands. That's everything the boy would ask for, and then he could die happy and sated. He lightly skims his fingertip over Armie's bottom lip and sighs. Maybe he could... just once... he knows that would be terribly wrong, because Armie is unconscious right now, but this could really be his only chance! If he doesn't do it now, there won't be other opportunities. So he takes a deep breath, bends down slowly and places a peck on the man's lips. He waits, his heart pounding madly, but Doc stays still. Timmy does it again, for longer this time, enjoying the smooth skin and the scent of Armie's aftershave. It's amazing, and sweet, and dreamy. It's the perfect kiss. Timmy wants to cry; he does it a third time, just to be sure. Then he is ready to go back to his room.

“Why did you stop?” Armie's voice almost gives him a stroke. Timmy's eyes widen in shock, and he stops breathing. Shit, had Armie been awake all this time? He still has his eyes closed, so maybe it's just a dream; maybe Timmy can still get away with that and Armie will never know. He tries to stand up from the edge of the bed, but Doc's strong hands grab him from the shoulders, keeping him prisoner.

“That was nice, why did you stop? Come back here immediately” Armie commands, finally opening his eyes, which are strangely darker now. Dangerously darker.

“Armie, I...” Timmy tries to speak, but the man pulls him close and kisses him again, a deep, hot kiss. Their bodies have never been so close before: the doctor wraps his arms tightly around the lad's waist, holding him for dear life. Breathing is not essential anymore.

When they part, there is silence. Their eyes are chained, and they are both surprised and shocked, but for different reasons: Timmy didn't expect Armie to kiss him back; Armie didn't expect that kissing Timmy could be so wonderful and exciting. He wants to do it again, he wants to do it all night. Damn, he wants to do it for the rest of his life! But when he tries to lift his head, Timmy stops him.

“Armie, wait, you are drunk”

“And you are beautiful” Doc replies, making the boy smile, “And anyway at my age I don't get drunk, I just get funnier” he makes a comical face and Timmy laughs. “Hey, do you want to know something reeeeeally embarrassing about me?” Armie asks. The lad nods eagerly. “I've never had sex with anyone else except my wife” the doctor whispers, as if there were other people in the room who can hear his own business. Timmy stares at him, mouth gaping. “I know: looooseeeer!” Armie makes an L with his thumb and forefinger and puts it on his own face. “It's just, I don't know, when I was in high school I just wanted to play rugby and go out with my friends, and when I went to college I was too focused on my studies to even think about sex. Only after I met Yvonne sex became suddenly interesting” he smiles and winks at Timmy, who smiles back. Armie caresses the boy's face, gently rubbing his earlobe, which feels soft and warm under his fingertips. “I guess it works the same way, when you really like someone” the doctor frowns then, “I just don't know exactly how it happens, you know? Between two men” he blushes “I mean, I know there are some very specific parts involved! I just don't know how to manage. I guess you'll have to teach me” he says to Timmy, and looks so open and vulnerable that the lad feels a pang in his guts: he hugs the doctor, and before he even knows, he's crying, sobbing desperately on Armie's chest. The older man holds him tight, petting his short hair, kissing the top of his head. “Don't go back in your room, stay here with me tonight. We will just sleep” he murmurs, rubbing the boy's back until Timmy calms down, then slips under the duvet and they both fall asleep in a few minutes.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for Armie being "mad about the boy"! (yes, I just spoiled you the title of the next chapter *satanic laugh*)


	8. Mad about the boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the kiss. A lazy sunday on the couch. Armie's mother comes over to give her unrequested opinion. The boys get tested. Some smut :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year my beloved Charmies!!!!! Sorry for the huge delay, I had planned to post this chapter at least three days ago, but the more I wrote, the more I came up with more ideas, so... there it is! A lot happens in this chap, and a lot is happening in the next one. I'm taking a little break from writing after I finish this story, I'm exhausted, this story is literally draining me :''( I didn't expect to get so involved... ok, go read now!

Chapter 8: mad about the boy

_Armie opens his eyes, and finds himself lying down in the grass: the sun is shining bright, there is a lovely breeze and a fresh scent of flowers and fruits all around. He glances at the sky, until he senses something moving next to him: he turns his head and, with his immense surprise, he discovers Timmy is there, kneeling at his side, looking at him with a fond gaze._

“ _I've been waiting for you for ages, Armie” the boy says, caressing the doctor's face, “Why did you take so long? I was losing hope”_

“ _What are you talking about? We saw each other last night” Armie replies, confused. He stares at the boy: he seems different, younger, less angular, and he has no tattoos. At first Armie was sure he recognized Timmy, but now that he can look at him closer, he is not so sure anymore. Who was this boy and how did he know his name? But before the doctor can speak again, the mysterious lad gets closer, surrounding Armie with his limbs, his lips half inch from the older man's cheek._

“ _Let's make love” he whispers into Armie's ear, and the man feels his warm breath on his own face. A wave of desire flows through him, making his blood and skin hot._

It's almost 6am when Armie wakes up, sweating and panting in his own bed: he is still wearing the shirt and trousers from the night before, and in the pale light of the early morning, he can see Timmy lying next to him, his face relaxed on the pillow, his lips slightly parted and the tip of his nose still red from crying in his arms just before falling asleep. Armie stares at him, longing to touch him but not wanting to wake him up, yet: he looks so peaceful, so innocent, so happy; Armie wonders if he's dreaming, and what. They are fully clothed, and still Armie can _feel_ everything: the warmth of Timmy's skin under the duvet, the scent of his hair which has now took over the entire room, the soft noise of his breath, slow and regular. The doctor is in total awe: how did he get so lucky to have this beautiful creature storming in his life and make it so bright and worth living? Yes, that same life which was so suffocating and unbearable just a few weeks earlier, now seemed to him exciting and full of possibilities again.

He thinks about his wife and realizes that, instead of the usual anger and rage, he is feeling a kind of sweet missing, a melancholy but not in a sad way: he imagines talking to her, telling her that he met someone, a person who is extraordinary enough to make him wish for a future together. Would she be jealous, or mad at him? Would she feel betrayed? No, she wouldn't. Quite the contrary, she would be happy for him: a few days before she died, she had taken Armie's hands in hers and had made him promise that he would have found someone else, eventually, and started a new life, because he was a good man and didn't deserve to be alone. He deserved to be loved and cherished. He deserved to be happy again. Armie had thought that this was impossible, but he had promised his wife anyway. Now for the first time in years he felt like he could keep that promise, he _wanted_ to keep the promise. He wanted to start a new life with Timmy, if the boy wanted too.

Archie is snoring in the corner of the carpet, so Armie decides it's too early to get up and after a few minutes he slips into a deep sleep again.

It's almost 8am when Timmy wakes up, feeling rested and contented. He stirs and stretches softly, then turns towards Armie: the man is sleeping heavily next to him, his strong body radiating heat and his scent all over the sheets and pillows. Timmy inhales deeply, relishing into that new and yet so familiar sensation. He wants to reach out and touch, but after the tough night and all the booze Armie has had at the dinner, Timmy thinks is better if he lets him sleep a little while longer. There will be plenty of time for touching, later. They'll have the full day to spend together, if Armie wants to. Timmy stares at the man, still in disbelief for what had happened last night: himself kissing Armie, thinking he was asleep; Armie kissing him back, surprising them both; and then the things he said, that he wants to try, that he wants Timmy to teach him... the boy feels a whirlwind of emotions overwhelm him suddenly, and he is both excited and scared as he's never been in his entire life. This man, this gorgeous, caring, generous man had kissed him and told him he wanted to learn how to please him.

 _And he wants me_ , Timmy's brain shouts, _me!! A simple boy who has nothing to give him, except my whole love and devotion._ And he wants to give Armie everything, his own life, if necessary. He can't wait for him to wake up, so he can kiss him again (and fuck off the morning breath, he couldn't care less!). Archie wakes up in the same moment and gleefully jumps on the bed, but he looks confused as he finds an extra body in the way.

“Hey, buddy” Timmy welcomes the puppy, trying to be as quite as possible “Don't be scared, it's just me, Timmy” he reassures the dog, who immediately approaches the boy and licks his face. Timmy laughs and pets the small dog. “Let's go for breakfast and a walk, uh? Daddy needs some more sleeping” he says, then a thought passes his mind: “Am I your daddy too, now?” he asks, almost expecting the dog to answer. He laughs again at his own silliness, than gets up and gestures for Archie to follow him downstairs.

When Armie wakes up again, he finds out the bed is empty. He panics immediately: had Timmy left? Was he scared or regretting their kiss? Was he mad at him? Had he felt forced to slip in Armie's bed, like he didn't have any choice? That would have definitely been the last thing Armie meant. He gets up and his heart is pounding so madly that he almost loses his balance and falls face down on the carpet. He checks Timmy's room, but everything is a mess, as usual: all his clothes and shoes are still there. He would have taken at least something before going away, right? But maybe... maybe he had ran away in a rush, frightened of waking Armie up and then have to talk to him, to explain him that this was a mistake, that this wasn't what he wanted, that Armie was deluding himself, that Timmy didn't like him _in that way_ , and that now it was impossible for him to keep living together, that he had to move out. No, no no no... Armie walks barefoot into the kitchen, leans on the sink and vomits his own soul out his body. All the booze and the food from the night before comes back up to decorate his sink and part of the counter. He grimaces and tries to clean up as best as he can. He doesn't notice Archie is missing, but just because he gives for granted that Gemma has passed by in the morning to pick him up, as she does every day. He breathes slowly to calm himself down, planning on taking a shower and going out, searching for the lad all over the city, scanning every single house, apartment and shelter, if necessary. He is about to go upstairs again when the main door flings opens and Archie runs towards him, barking happily and greeting the human. Armie crouches down to pet his dog, and unexpectedly Timmy's voice fills the room:

“Oh, you're awake. We missed you on our way to the park” he says sweetly, his cheeks red for the long walk under the sun. Armie lifts his head and for a moment seems taken aback by the vision of the boy; then he reaches him and, without any words, he hugs him tight, squeezing his slender body into his own strong embrace.

“Oh my God, I thought you left, I thought...” he speaks with effort, his throat stuck with a lump of emotions. Timmy is honestly confused by that reaction.

“Armie, I don't... what are you talking about? Why would I leave? Armie, please, you're hurting me” the boy murmurs when the embrace becomes too tight and he feels like Armie could crush some ribs if he keeps doing that. Doc immediately backs off.

“Shit, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry” he pleads, caressing the boy's face. Timmy takes Armie's hands in his own and kisses them both: the palms, the wrists, the knuckles. Armie doesn't know what to say.

“I should have left a note” Timmy admits, “I didn't think about it. Sorry. I just wanted to give you more time to rest” he explains, and Armie feels like an idiot. Timmy seems lost in thoughts for some seconds, then he frowns: “Armie, have you ever felt like this before? Panicking and thinking that I had left the house without telling you?” he asks, his eyes inquisitive. Doc laughs nervously, waving his hand.

“What? Me? Naaah! It was just, you know, a moment of weakness. It was nothing” he cheers the boy up, acting like he wasn't going to have a breakdown any minute now, when the actual reply to Timmy's question would have been: _Every time you walk out that door._

_\---_

They spend the day on the couch, talking and cuddling, eating Gemma's lasagna and several bags of crisps and jellies (and Armie can't wrap his mind around the fact that Timmy eats like a whole rugby team and doesn't put on a single stone). They also kiss a lot: some kisses are quick and shy, some others are deep and hot; Timmy knows that Armie needs time to adjust, time to get used to the new state of their relationship, so he doesn't push for more, he keeps his hands on the man's sides, and lets him set the pace of their kisses. Armie's hands seem reluctant to leave Timmy's face: he cups his cheeks, rubs his earlobes, pets his hair (and he misses his curls so much!), skims his fingers across his jaw and neck, feels the smooth skin, draws the outline of Timmy's profile with his fingertip. Since he's been walking under the sun for a while, now the boy's face is entirely covered in freckles: Armie tries to count them, gently tapping on each of them, making Timmy laugh and squirm in his arms. He notices a tiny scar on his left cheekbone, and he's amazed by the simple truth that even his scars are beautiful. He makes a mental note to ask him how he got it.

But for the most part of the day, they talk about everything and nothing: places they've been, places they want to go; foods they love, childhood memories; most satisfying moment so far, worst day ever; most awkward bad impressions: Armie tells Timmy about that time he was at the hospital's cafeteria, talking with some nurses about how one of the new paramedics was always stinking of old sweat and cheap curry and how unpleasant it was to be next to him, and then realized with horror that the poor guy had been right behind him the whole time; Timmy tells Armie about that time when he went out of the door to check the mail box, wearing only his briefs, and the door had suddenly slammed shut because of the wind, and he had to literally climb a pipe in order to go back inside the house through a window, and if this wasn't embarrassing enough, one of the neighbours had seen him and called the Garda, thinking that he was a maniac trying to rob the apartment in underwear. They laugh to tears. Then Armie starts confessing about being bitten by a sheep in Galway, and Timmy remembers an old conversation he had with Mr Gorman a while ago. He fidgets a bit before finding the courage to ask:

“Armie, listen, it's ok if you don't want to talk about it, but Danny said something happened in Galway and... I was wondering... maybe it's none of my business...” he rambles, unsure of how to pose the question properly without upsetting the man. Doc's smile fades, and he breaks the eye contact for the first time in hours: he glances at the wall, then at his own hands, then at the TV, which is on but has been long forgotten. He shouldn't scare Timmy with this, he shouldn't tell him the truth; but the boy is looking at him with warm eyes, and he's been so patient with him, listening at Armie talking about his wife and his grieving, helping him going through the dark place towards the light, never complaining, never asking for anything in return. Armie doesn't know if this is the right choice, or if he's just burdening the boy with something he can't deal with, but after some moments of silence, he sighs deeply and speaks:

“I jumped off a cliff in Galway, three years ago” he reveals, his voice low but steady, “I did it because I wanted to die”

Timmy's eyes widen immediately at the sound of those words, and he feels a wave of fear running over him: he shakes his head and throws himself into the doctor's arms, holding him tight, unable to keep the tears at bay. He can't even dare to think about what he would do if something bad happened to Armie. He loves him so much, he wouldn't survive a single day without him.

“I will never do it again, I promise!” Doc reassures him, rubbing his back to stop him from shaking like a leaf in a storm, “I did it because I was alone and desperate and so, so fed up with life... but I'm not anymore! Because now I have you in my life” he pinches Timmy's chin and lifts his head, restoring the eye contact, “You made me remember what does it mean to feel happy, and why every moment is worth living, even when it's tough” he delicately kisses the tip of the boy's nose, but Timmy wants more: he glues their lips together, frantically kissing him, his tongue rummaging Armie's mouth savagely and with so much passion that they're both gasping for breath after a few minutes. Armie doesn't even realize his hands have travelled across the boy's body towards south, and he is currently squeezing Timmy's ass-cheeks, pushing his hips against his own ones. Timmy blushes furiously when he senses his own boner poking into Armie's side through the fabric of the blue jeans.

“Shit, I'm sorry” he whispers, trying to disentangle himself from the embrace, but Doc has other plans: he quickly flips them over, so now he is on top and Timmy is trapped between his body and the back of the couch. Armie intensely gazes at the boy from head to toe, devouring him with his eyes, looking ravenous. Timmy's breath speeds up immediately, and Armie isn't even brushing against him.

“Let me see how you touch yourself” the older man's voice is deep and husky, and his pupils are wide, two black pools surrounded by two blue rings. The lad tries to speak, but no sound escapes his lips. “I won't touch you, I promise. I just want to watch” Armie explains, putting his hands behind his back to emphasize his words. Timmy licks his lips, nodding.

“Yes, doctor Hammer” he huffs. Armie smirks: _little rascal_ , he thinks.

Timmy opens the zip of his blue jeans and lowers them to his mid-thighs, then does the same with his briefs, freeing his erection, which looks angry and eager for attention. He takes the situation in hand (literally), starting stroking his cock slowly but firmly, never breaking the eye contact with Armie, whose eyes wander from the boy's face to his groin, absolutely amazed by the little show Timmy is performing in front of him.

“Do you like what you see, Doc?” the lad asks, moaning already, not holding anything back. Armie nods, feeling his own erection growing any second more, but choosing to ignore it for the moment, too focused on enjoying the view of Timmy's face flushing red and his moans getting louder, totally lost in pleasure. The younger man speeds his hand up and closes his eyes, and Armie can't take it anymore: even if he said he wouldn't have touched him, he can't help himself but lean forward and sink his teeth into the boy's neck, biting and kissing the skin there, and before he even knows it, he wraps his own hand around Timmy's one and follows his frantic movements without interfere. Timmy gasps when he realizes what's going on, and his heart beats twice as fast as it was so far; he feels the warmth and strength of Armie's hand on his own, and the wet kisses he's leaving on his neck and shoulder, and suddenly everything is too much to bear: he is overwhelmed by the spasms of his orgasm, and he comes, moaning desperately, thick spurts of semen staining his t-shirt, their tangled hands and probably some cushion, too.

Armie looks at the boy with utter reverence and adoration.

“You are the most perfect creature I've ever seen” he says, breathless as this was his own post-orgasmic chill and not Timmy's one.

“Do you like me, Armie?” the boy mewls, his forehead resting on the man's shoulder. Doc chuckles.

“Do I like you? I worship you, Timmy” he admits, totally surrendered. And there he is: doctor Armand Hammer, 35 years old, a widower, who just went through his first homosexual experience ever.

And it was _amazing._

\---

Wednesday afternoon, Doc comes back home earlier from the hospital because he is going to receive a visit from his mother, and he's not exactly delighted about it. Of course, he loves his mother very much, and he wishes her to live a long, healthy life, but he knows perfectly what she's going to tell him, it's a conversation they had a million times after Yvonne's funeral: his parents want Armie to quit his job at the hospital and open a private clinic, which means making a lot more money and stop worrying about saving indigent people. Armie's family is very rich and has some good connections around the Country: it would be easy for him to start a new job and have a queue of wealthy patients seven days per week. But that's not what Armie wants, not what he had studied for. Furthermore, he doesn't know if he should talk to his mother about Timmy. What should he say to her, anyway? He is my housemate, he is my friend, he is... someone I like? She would get mad. She would probably make a big deal out of it. He's not ready to hear her screaming and see her crying (because she will cry, he could bet money on that). However, now she's already on her way so the only thing Armie can do is putting the kettle on the stove, take out some cookies to have with the tea, and wait for her.

When he opens the door, his mother beams at him.

“Oh, honey, look at you! You are glowing!” she says, dramatic as usual. Armie barely avoids to roll his eyes and hugs her, inviting her inside and heading her to the kitchen. They drink tea, eat biscuits and talk for an hour about the usual stuff: his father's job, their last holidays, some friend who got married, some friend who got divorced... his mother inquires about Armie's shifts at the hospital, asks if he needs something (and she means money, of course), tells him again how healthy and in shape he looks. Armie smiles and squeezes her hand, enjoying this strange peace between them. So far, so good. But of course, it couldn't last long. After Armie has rinsed their mugs and put some cookies in a bag for her to bring home, she glances at him with a concerned look and sighs loudly.

“Lauren called me” she proclaims gravely. Armie freezes. “She wasn't very detailed about it, but I understood something is happening. There is a boy living in this house, and apparently you two have become... _close_ ” she says as she meant something else. Something wrong. Armie rubs his hand on his eyes, seems suddenly tired and exhausted.

“You know she is nosy and loves gossip” he just replies, carefully avoiding her gaze. His mother shifts on the chair.

“So there is no boy living in this house”

“Yes, mum, there _is_ a boy living in this house” Armie repeats, annoyed already.

“And?” she tries to make him confess.

“And what?” he opens his arms, raising his eyebrows. Her jaw clenches nervously.

“Darling, you've always been so generous and openhearted, even naïve sometimes! You never realize when someone is taking advantage of you. This boy has clearly seen an opportunity to find a free accommodation and he's probably messing up with your mind, since you're still grieving the loss of your wife, and you're vulnerable and confused” she explains, but Armie is already fed up with this bullshit.

“He's not doing any of these things, quite the opposite: he is helping me working on my emotions and my anger issues. He listens to me, he makes me feel good and understood and happy... he has brought me back to life. He has done more in two months than anyone else in three years” Armie admits, and he can't help himself but smile widely as he talks about how Timmy gave him a reason to live. His mother shakes her head, visibly irritated.

“These _feelings_ you think you have for this boy are... just an illusion, darling. They're only in your mind. Two men can't... you lost Yvonne and now you are just desperately clinging on the first person who gave you five minutes of attention! But he is just taking advantage of you, don't you see it?” she bursts out.

“This conversation has already gone too far” Armie stops her abruptly, standing up from his chair, hoping she gets the hint and removes herself from his house. Unfortunately, his mother is even more stubborn than him.

“I think you should talk to someone, dear, a professional doctor who can help you rationalize your pain and work on your _confusion_ ” she tells, but Armie doesn't even let her finish the sentence.

“There is no confusion here, mum. I'm not confused, I've never seen so clear! I don't need to pay a shrink to talk, I can talk to Timmy every day, and unlike anyone else, he really cares about how I feel and what I need. He gives me everything and never asks for anything in return. He is the real generous and openhearted person here, not me! And there is nothing you or Lauren or God himself can tell me to make me stop loving him!” Armie is a flood of words, not even realizing what he just said. He's just too pissed off to think straight right now. His mother widens her eyes in shock at the sound of the last sentence, and is about to reply, but the doctor goes on talking before she can speak: “Yes, mum, _I love him_! And with a little bit of luck, I'm planning to spend the rest of my life with him, right here, in this house” he confesses his plans, grinning like a fool. His mother is staring at him in disbelief.

“How can you be so blaspheme? Love?! This is not love, this is just... unnatural lust! Love is only between a man and a woman, and if you think that me and your father will never accept...”

“Do you remember my colleague Jim?” Armie suddenly seems to change the subject of the conversation. His mother frowns, but doesn't reply. “He lost his partner, Michael, in 1989. They had been together for twenty-four years, mum. Twenty-four years, it's twice the time I've been married to Yvonne. Do you remember how many people were at her funeral? Almost one hundred people, each of them saying _Oh, poor Armie, he lost the love of his life!_ ” the doctor dramatically puts a hand on his chest, making a high pitched voice. “Do you know how many people were at Michael's funeral? Seven, mum! Seven people, including me and Jim! And you know why?” he gets closer to the woman, his face just a few inches from hers, “Because it was embarrassing to be acquainted with someone who had AIDS. Because they were scared of being judged, isolated from the good society. Because they were ashamed of being seen at a fag's funeral. Because for people like you and dad, shame can never be forgiven, not even in the face of the death of a good man” Armie's voice cracks under the wave of emotions, and he sits back on the table, his head in his hands, crying with pain and rage and frustration. His mother tries to touch him, but he slaps her hand. “Please, mum, leave” he murmurs without even looking at her. She takes her purse and walks out of the door in silence.

None of them has been aware of the person listening to them, hidden behind the wall: Timmy had come back home earlier too, with two bags of groceries, planning to make a surprise dinner for Doc, but he had stopped into the entrance when he had heard two voices coming from the kitchen, Armie's voice and a woman he never met before. Only when he got close to the door, he saw the blonde, elegant woman sit at the table and realized she was Armie's mother. Timmy had decided to not interrupt their meeting, and was about to go upstairs in his room, but then he had registered the topic of the conversation, and had frozen on the spot: they were talking about _him_. He had stayed there, listening to Armie praising him and telling all those wonderful things about him in front of his mother, and then he had to lean on the wall when Armie had screamed out that he loved him. He had felt on the verge of fainting: he had put his hand on his mouth, muffling a sob, searching for the coldness of the wall to give some relief to his burning face. When he had sensed that the woman was leaving the house, he had moved quickly up the stairs, and had waited there until he had heard the click of the door closing.

Timmy enters the kitchen silently: Armie is still sit at the table, eyes shut, his hands tangled in his own hair, looking desperate, exhausted, defeated. Like he is carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Timmy gets closer without making any noise, lifts his hand, unsure if he should give the man more time, but desperately eager to touch him, to hold him, to make him feel that everything will be alright, that he is there for Armie, if he wants him to. That he _loves_ him too. Suddenly Armie senses the boy's presence next to him and raises his head: he smiles and hugs Timmy, resting his forehead on the younger man's chest, breathing in his scent, relishing in the heat of his thin body.

“Thank God you're home” Armie whispers, not letting Timmy go, “I missed you so much. Please, don't leave me” the doctor begs, his voice low. Such display of vulnerability makes something break into Timmy's heart: he always thought that Armie was strong, invincible, like a superhero; that he could face everything, that he could beat all the enemies, that nothing could touch him. But seeing the man like this... Timmy feels so much tenderness and love in that moment, he thinks he's going to explode any second now. He kisses the top of Armie's blond head. They stay like this for a few minutes, the afternoon quietly slipping into evening. There is something Armie needs to know.

“I need to talk to you” Timmy starts shyly. Armie gives him total attention. “Last time I had sex with someone, and I mean a full intercourse, I wasn't exactly clear headed. I had... uhm, _inhaled_ something” the boy grimaces, aware of his recklessness, “And it's not like I really knew the guy” he giggles nervously, “And I'm almost totally sure we didn't use a condom or any kind of protection, so... before we end up doing anything, I think I should get tested, as soon as possible” Timmy cups Armie's cheeks. “I could never forgive myself if I should put you in danger”

Armie smiles, kisses the boy's wrist.

“We will get tested together, I'll ask Jim to take care of everything. Nobody will know about it” the doctor reassures the young man. Timmy laughs.

“Armie, you literally had sex with one person in your entire life!”

“Yes, but did you miss the part when I said I work in an hospital?” Doc asks sarcastically, “Every day I touch needles, syringes, urine and blood samples; I put my hands in every human orifice, and believe me, I would gladly avoid some of them” he reveals, raising his eyebrows, and Timmy laughs again. “Maybe I don't have HIV but I could have some other kind of illness, or a latent disease, a virus of which I don't have any symptoms. This test could save my life” he ends up, smiling fondly, and Timmy smiles back at him.

\---

Two days later, Timmy follows Armie at the hospital in the early morning: they enter from a back door, so nobody will notice them. Armie is still avoiding Lauren after the charity dinner, he really doesn't want to talk to her, he can't even stand to see her right now; the woman has tried multiple times to explain herself, to apologize, to just understand, because she still loves Armie like he was her own son, and when you love someone, you have to accept everything about them, even the things you don't like. But Armie is stubborn like a donkey, and for the moment he just decided he will ignore her a little while longer. The boys enter a small room and find Jim waiting for them.

“Oh, hello my angel!” Jim welcomes Timmy, kissing him on both cheeks, then he makes a disappointed face when he sees Armie: “Uh, you're here too. Will I ever get rid of you?” he huffs, faking annoyance. Armie laughs. He's the first one to get his blood drawn: Jim is a master in his job, so everything is sorted out in a few minutes. When it's Timmy's turn, Jim invites doctor Hammer to leave the room, because he has to do some _very personal_ questions to the boy. Armie is about to argue that there is nothing to hide there, but Timmy nods and silently asks him to go outside. Jim prepares the syringe and the lad shivers, staring at the tool with pure terror.

“Don't be afraid, it's just a tiny needle” the doctor reassures him sweetly, “Look outside the window, and I promise you won't even notice it”. Timmy does as he said, but instead of focusing his attention on the window, he peers at the desk and finds a framed picture: two men, hugging each other, smiling broadly. One of the men is a younger Jim (longer hair, fuller cheeks), so the other one must be his partner, Michael: they seem genuinely happy in the picture, and a beautiful couple. Timmy sighs, louder than he meant to, wondering if one day Armie and him will have a framed picture on a shelf at home, too. For the moment, shelves are Yvonne's pictures reign, but Timmy is not bothered by that.

“Isn't he handsome?” Jim interrupts the boy's train of thoughts: Timmy turns his head towards the doctor and frowns. “My better half, Michael” Jim clarifies, smiling, “He's always been the one who made people look at him and pine. The first years of our relationship, I got eaten alive by jealousy! We fought every day, I even threw a porcelain pot at him, once” he looks at the side, shaking his head, “It was such a nice pot” he sighs with regret. Timmy smiles, scratching his arm lightly. Jim sits down in front of him with a folder and starts making questions: last time he got tested (never); last time he went to the hospital (a couple of years earlier, food poisoning); last time he had a full intercourse (a few months earlier); any condom? No. Jim gives him a stern look; Timmy lowers his gaze and blushes.

“Are you and Armie planning to have sex?” the doctor asks, but he's not prying or judging, his voice is calm and professional. The lad starts fidgeting, avoiding to look the older man in the eyes.

“I... I don't know. Maybe? Probably. I mean... he's not ready to... and I don't want to pressure him into... things...” Timmy rambles awkwardly. Jim pats his thigh and stands up: he goes behind his desk, opens a little drawer and takes two small blue boxes, which he gives to the boy.

“Just in case you lads end up doing _things_ before you get the results of the test” Jim says, smirking slyly. Timmy realizes he gave him two boxes of condoms and almost hopes that the earth could open under his feet and swallow him alive.

Armie is waiting for Timmy in the hallway: he smiles when he sees the younger man approaching. They hug each other, very discreetly, and Armie kisses the boy on the temple.

“I shall see you later” the doctor whispers in Timmy's ear. The lad nods, smiles and leaves the hospital, going to the warehouse with something less to worry about.

Jim is waiting for Armie next to the elevator: he smiles when he sees his best friend approaching. They pat each other's arms, laughing openly. Jim squints his eyes.

“Armie, are you acquainted with the Kinsey scale?” he enquires as they enter the elevator. Doc raises one eyebrow.

“Of course I am, Jimbo. I've been to college too. Sometimes” he jokes.

“Well, so you will know that human sexuality it's not rigid and immutable, but it changes as we grow up, develop ourselves, make experiences” Jim explains. Armie chuckles.

“Does this mean you'll start dating girls?”

Jim looks at his colleague in total shock:

“Are you kidding me?!? Women are scary!!” he yells scandalized. Armie has to agree. They both laugh.

\---

The two weeks it takes to receive the results of the tests turn out to be a real nightmare for Armie: Timmy has started working double shifts at the warehouse, because he wants to contribute to pay bills and maybe buy a second hand car eventually, so now the boys see each other rarely, and Timmy prefers to sleep in his own room to avoid waking up Armie when he comes back home. The bed is cold and empty without him, and Armie keeps tossing and turning all night long: he can't sleep, so when he gets up he is even more tired than before, and during his shifts at the hospital he engulfs disproportionate amounts of coffee to stay awake and focused; all that caffeine gives him headache, so he has to swallow a few pills of ibuprofen, usually around half day; painkillers make him feel sleepy, so he takes more coffee, he goes back home, and he can't sleep. And again from the beginning, like this for almost two weeks. He thinks he's going to have a triple stroke very soon.

One day he returns home earlier: he opens the door and detects a strong smell of paint. He calls Timmy, and the boy appears from the living room, his face, hands and clothes stained with colored varnish.

“Armie, hey, I wasn't expecting you until dinner” he states, looking nervous, like he's been caught doing something wrong. Doc smiles at his cuteness and shrugs.

“I just took the rest of the day off. What are you up to?” he inquires, trying to peek at the living room, but Timmy stops him.

“No, wait! It's not finished yet. It was meant to be a surprise for you... I'll cover it back with the white paint if you don't like it, I promise” the lad lifts his hands, almost apologetically. Armie is even more curious now; he walks into the room, and widens his eyes in front of the wall which was plain white just a few hours before. Now there is a mural on it, and the doctor identifies the place immediately: it's the Cliffs of Moher, where they had been at the beginning of spring. The mural is wonderfully painted, Timmy has a real talent. Armie turns towards him and smiles.

“That's amazing, really. I love it” he just says. He's speechless. Timmy slips his hands in his pockets and stares at his bare feet. Armie notices there are three people drawn on the edge of the cliffs: they are facing the horizon; one is a blonde, tall guy, and he easily recognizes himself; at his left side there is a shorter guy with a green fisherman hat and skinny legs, and Armie laughs, because that's how Timmy sees himself, apparently.

“Who's that?” Doc points at the female figure at his right side. She has long black hair and is somehow brighter than the other two figures, almost transparent. Timmy blushes and bites his lips.

“That's your wife” he murmurs in a breath, still not looking up. “I thought... it's not like I'm a religious person or something, but I've always believed that people we loved never leave our side, they stay with us, especially when we genuinely miss them, like you do with her” he explains, and he almost expects Armie to mock him or getting sad or feeling insulted. He hopes not. Instead, Armie cups his cheeks and lifts his head, looking at him in absolute awe; the doctor's eyes are two sapphires, big and blue and shining in the light of the early afternoon.

“Thank you, that's wonderful” Doc tells the boy before kissing him, deeply and passionately. His heart is beating so fast it could break the ribcage and being ejected from his chest any minute now. He catches his breath when they part. “Let's go to bed, please” he begs the lad, who grins broadly.

“Armie, is literally 4pm”

“Good, so I can see exactly what I'm doing” the doctor replies, winking. He grabs Timmy's hips and lifts him, making his legs wrap around his own waist, so now the boy is clinging on him like a koala on a branch. Armie carries him like this up the stairs, while Timmy keeps kissing his cheeks and neck; the doctor almost misses the last step, but luckily they don't fall. They end up crashing on the bed, laughing madly. Armie removes Timmy's few clothes so quickly, the boy doesn't even realize it. Doc's hands are suddenly everywhere: his face, his chest, his thighs, his ass. Timmy arches his back and their chests touch, their equally hard shafts colliding, making him gasp, his cheeks red with arousal.

“We should wear condoms” he whispers, already breathless. Armie nods and gets up to retrieve them from the nightstand, taking off his shirt in the process. He comes back to bed, and Timmy immediately starts to fumble with the zip of his jeans: he desperately needs to touch the man, he has been waiting for this for so long... he doesn't even remember his life before Armie, and it's probably better this way.

Timmy frees Armie's erection, wrapping his hand around it, moving slowly and carefully: the older man closes his eyes for a moment, taken aback by the new sensation of being touched by someone else. Being touched by another man. It's not strange or unpleasant, just different. He only needs time to get used to it. When Armie's cock is fully hard, Timmy unrolls the condom on it, then takes his own cock in his hand and tries to do the same, but he has trouble unpacking the rubber. He laughs nervously.

“Shit, I hate these things” he huffs. Armie takes the item from his hands and helps him open it and wear it. When they are both covered, they start stroking each other: Timmy is on top of Armie, straddling his hips, kissing him desperately like the world is gonna end tomorrow. They are both breathing heavily and moaning from time to time. The sensation is overwhelming: Armie tries to hold back a little, to synchronize their orgasms. Then he comes up with a better idea: he stops Timmy, then takes both their cocks in one of his huge hands and starts moving them together, the two shafts rubbing through the thin layer of latex. Timmy shudders and rests his forehead on Doc's shoulder, leaving him totally in charge of their pleasure. Armie follows his own feelings, going slower or faster when he senses the boy's breathing change. The only noises that fill the room are their sighs and moans.

“Armie...”

“Shh! I got you” the man whispers “Let yourself go” he encourages his lover, and after a few more strokes, they are both coming, moaning and trembling, waves of pleasure enveloping them like a warm blanket. They lie down on the bed, sated and happy.

“It will be even better when we will do this without the condoms in the way” Timmy promises. Armie kisses his damp forehead, his skin soft and hot under the man's lips.

“I'll do anything for you” the doctor says, caressing the lad's back.

Their tests results come by post a few days later: they're both negative, and Timmy exhales with relief.

\---


	9. Give my soul some rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the relationship goes deeper, some issues come to the surface to create troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I wrote this chapter in a few hours and not even checked the mistakes because it was haunting me and I needed to take it out of my mind, so sorry for the grammar disasters, and sorry for the ending.  
> TRIGGER WARNING!! At the end of this chapter there is a representation of violence and abuse, if you are sensitive to this subject maybe you wanted a warning before you read. Also disclaimer: if you are in a relationship in which your partner makes you feel threatened or in danger, please search for help, there is no shame in asking for help! You are amazing and you deserve better :)

Chapter 9: give my soul some rest

_Armie is in the garden again, but this time there is no sun in the sky: it's cold, windy and cloudy. All the leaves has fallen from the trees, and everything around looks dead. He searches for the boy, running around, frantically calling his name, but he is nowhere to be found. When Armie seems to give up, he hears the boy's voice calling him from afar._

“ _Armie... Armie!”_

_The doctor runs in circles around the garden, following the sound of the voice, until he reaches the edge of a cliff: he sees the boy there, turned back towards the horizon, dangerously close to the edge._

“ _Timmy” he calls, getting closer, and the boy turns around to look at him. He's crying._

“ _Why did you let me go, Armie?” the lad asks. Doc is confused, tries to hug him but he can't: he only catches air between his arms._

“ _I will never let you go” he says, wanting to reassure the boy._

“ _Please, Armie, don't let me go” the lad begs, and starts to disappear slowly. Armie panics, moves his arms to grab him but his hands miss him. The boy vanishes completely and Armie is left alone on the edge of the cliff._

“ _No! Please, no, come back! No!” he screams, desperate, “No!!”_

“No!! No!” Armie wakes up yelling, his heart almost exploding with fear. He sits on the bed, his body restless, his breath heavy and fast. He almost jumps when he feels the touch of a hand on his shoulder: Timmy is next to him, trying to calm him down.

“Shh, Armie, it was just a dream” he whispers sweetly, searching for his face in the dark of the room, “It's not real, it's gone. I'm here” he comforts the man, and Armie holds him tight immediately, sinking his face into the boy's hair.

“Please, don't leave me” he says, sounding desperate for no reason. Timmy holds him back but doesn't say anything. They stay like this for a while, until Armie falls asleep again.

This will be the last time he dreams about the boy in the garden.

\---

The first weeks of relationship between the two men are amazing: they wake up together, have breakfast, then Armie walks Timmy to the warehouse before heading to the hospital. The one who comes back home earlier makes dinner, then they walk Archie to the park together; they spend the rest of the night on the couch, watching old movies and cuddling, talking about taking holidays in the same period of the year so they can go somewhere sunny and hot, Greece or maybe Barbados. They have all the time in the world to decide. Sex is also awesome: they are slowly discovering each other's body, taking time to learn what they like and how to please the other man; they haven't had a full intercourse, yet, because Armie is not ready and Timmy doesn't want to push him into something he could not like completely (or at all), so for the moment they just use their hands and mouths, and it's more than enough. They haven't explicitly said _I love you_ , yet, but they don't really need to say it loud: it's clear and obvious in every single action they do for each other.

Timmy couldn't be happier, seriously. Armie gives him everything he ever wanted, and more. Everything is perfect, like a fairytale.

Even if... sometimes he misses his old, messy, precarious life, when he used to wake up in unknown places and wasn't even sure he would have found something to eat until the next day. When he was reckless and stupid, but it made him feel alive. When he was _free_. He misses his friends, misses the street challenges, the thrill of the adventures, the danger of being caught painting murals at night; he misses going to _the George_ and dancing for hours and drinking and just being there, existing there as a person of his own, simply as Timmy, as someone who belongs only to himself and not to Armie or anyone else. Sometimes he feels like he has become a mere extension of Armie's body, like one of his limbs, and he doesn't even have any purpose or meaning in the world without the doctor anymore. Sometimes it seems like even breathing it's impossible when Armie is too close to him, and that's scary and unhealthy and Timmy _knows it_ , he is aware of it, but he just doesn't know how to face his fears. He feels guilty for having these thoughts, for wishing to be alone from time to time, to have his own space; it would look so unthankful, so unappreciative towards everything Armie did for him! He gave him a home, a job, the warmth of a body to lean on when life gets tough, but sometimes, just sometimes, Timmy feels like Armie's love for him is simply suffocating...

He ponders talking to Armie about these feelings, but then he imagines how Armie would react: he would be devastated, would probably blame himself for not being attentive enough, patient enough, understanding enough. No, he can't talk about this with the doctor, ever. Timmy decides to keep his thoughts for himself, hoping that they will disappear, eventually.

Armie also couldn't be happier: Timmy is the embodiment of sweetness and perfection. He is so young and yet so wise and thoughtful and caring. He listens to him, for real; he makes him feel so alive and free! Armie doesn't even have rage outbursts anymore, his anger issues seem to be totally healed. All those silliness his mother told him about going to a shrink, when everything he had to do was just find someone like Timmy, an angel fallen into his life to bring back the joy and the light. Yes, Timmy is his angel of redemption, Armie is sure of this. He is never tired of being with the boy, to talk to him, to touch him; they are never close enough. Armie would spend every second of every day holding Timmy in his arms, never letting him go. When they are separate, Armie can't wait to go back home to see him and kiss him and go to bed with him: every inch of his skin tingles at the simple anticipation of what Timmy will show him that night, what he will teach him, which kind of new, exciting way to please each other. Sex with him is utterly astonishing, and Armie has to focus on other matters to try not to have a constant boner. Also, he doesn't want to think about how Timmy may have become so good at that, how many men he had, because he senses the surge of jealousy raise from his guts, and he doesn't want to do or say something hurtful to him and end up ruining everything.

Sometimes Armie is unsure how to express his feelings for Timmy, so he starts covering him with attentions and expensive presents: clothes, books, video games... he's planning to buy him that car Timmy so much desires. It will be a surprise, and Armie smiles imagining the boy's face when he will see the car in their driveway. One night, he goes back home with a silver and diamonds bracelet: he puts it on Timmy's wrist while they are on the couch.

“Armie, you shouldn't have” the boy tries to say, but Doc shakes his head.

“It's nothing, really. You deserve much more than this” he praises the lad, kissing him. “I will give you everything you've never had” he promises, his eyes shining like stars in a summer night. Timmy breaths deeply, his nostrils trembling.

“You don't have to buy me diamonds to make me happy, Armie” he says, “Just... let's go out tonight, me and you. Let's go to a pub, have some beer, walk on the riverside” he suggests, hopeful, but Armie seems confused.

“Are you bored?” he asks, frowning. “Why didn't you tell me? This is not a prison, Timmy: you can go out whenever you want. You don't need my permission” he tells the boy, acting calm but his voice betrays his tension. Timmy shakes his head.

“No, no, Armie, of course I'm not bored! I just...” he cups the man's cheeks, the stubble tickling his palms, “I hoped that you wanted to go out with me, we haven't been anywhere for so long, and the night is so warm” he tries to convince him, a sparkle in his eyes. Armie removes his hands from his own face and stands up abruptly.

“You go if you want. I'm tired and I have an early shift tomorrow morning” he hisses without looking at the boy, then goes upstairs. Timmy decides to give up the idea of going out for tonight, to not upset Armie further. He pets Archie's back on the couch for a while, then goes to sleep in his own room.

\---

It's full summer now, and the city center is busy with tourists and students going through their final exams. Timmy is walking home on Grafton street after a shift at the warehouse, when he suddenly spots Shaun and his other friends approaching him from the opposite side. He smiles and waves his hand to greet them, ready to hug all of them after such a long time. Unfortunately, their reaction is not what the boy had expected: there are no hugs, or smiles, or any sign of remaining affection. They keep their distance from him.

“Look who we have here, the little Lord Fauntleroy!” Shaun mocks him cruelly, and the other boys laugh. “How are things going on the rich side? I guess you don't need to hang out with us beggars anymore, now that you're living in a fancy house with your fancy doctor” he accuses Timmy, who doesn't understand why his friend is being so mean to him.

“I... I missed you, guys, really. I tried to contact you but you changed your number” he explains to Shaun.

“We waited for you for more than one hour last time, and you didn't even bothered to show up” the blonde lad reminds him his promise to go with them to the challenge when they met at the George, that night when Timmy was there with Armie to celebrate his new job.

“I know, I'm sorry, believe me, I'm mortified” Timmy apologizes, genuinely regretting having left his friends in trouble, “But I couldn't leave the house, I just... couldn't” he explains, shrugging and opening his arms.

“Yeah, you were too busy shagging your precious little doctor to come and help us restore our honor!” Shaun yells in his face, getting closer, forcing Timmy to walk backwards until his back touches a wall. “Well, you know what? We are even better without you. You're nothing but a whining useless brat, we don't need you, and you better know that when your fancy doctor will get sick of you and kick you out, there will be no one waiting for you here. Don't even try to come back crawling, Timmy. You are _nothing_ to us” the lad says coldly, not a tiny hint of emotion passing across his features. The gang leaves, following their leader. Timmy leans on the wall for some minutes, drying the tears with his hand. He walks home and the moment he sees Armie, he runs towards him and flies into his embrace, starting sobbing and shaking in the man's arms.

“Hey, what's going on?” Doc enquires, worried about that reaction. “Did something bad happen to the warehouse? Did someone insult you? Do you need me to call Danny?”

“No” Timmy replies, the sound of his voice muffled by Armie's shirt, “No, nothing happened at work. Just... just hold me tight” he begs, and the doctor is more than happy to comply. He hugs the boy's trembling body and kisses his forehead.

“Of course. Always” he whispers in Timmy's hair.

There is something that has been haunting Armie lately: it's just a doubt, an idea, a suspicion, but it's making his nights sleepless, even more than usual. Timmy and him never really talked about the status of their relationship, never clearly said that they were a couple, that they were _exclusive_ , and Timmy is so young and surely has his needs, and since Armie is keeping their nocturnal activities on a basic level, who can ensure him that Timmy is not looking for something more elsewhere? With someone else? Armie can't follow the lad every minute of every day, so he will never know if Timmy is seeing someone else after work (or even during work). The only thought of another man putting his hands on Timmy makes Armie's fists clench and his blood boil with rage. He goes in hyperventilation every time he imagines Timmy getting what he needs from some stranger guy, maybe in a crappy hotel room. Armie figures out he needs to do something, to make a move in order to avoid losing the lad. He can't risk to lose Timmy, he just can't.

That night, while they are in bed, Armie is sprawled on his stomach, his face on the pillow, his arms folded under his head, enjoying the massage Timmy is giving him: the younger man skims his hands on the doctor's shoulders, putting the exact amount of pressure for the muscles to relax, then goes on the center of his back, using his knuckles up and down to untie the knots of tension Armie is holding after a long shift at the hospital (Oncology again, he supposes, but didn't ask). He grazes his fingers on Armie's skin, lightly tickling his sides, and Doc laughs. He is already hard, his cock trapped against the mattress. He feels a wave of arousal when Timmy bites his ass-cheek, and winces, laughing harder.

“Ouch! Be careful, kid, that's my bottom, not a peach!” the doctor jokes, and Timmy giggles, licking and kissing the spot he just bitten. He travels to the center of Armie's body, slightly opening the butt-cheeks, pushing his thumbs into the solid muscles: he had dreamed about doing this since that night when he had spied on Armie after he showered. The man's ass was really a masterpiece, and Timmy was eager to eat it out. The boy's finger circles the hole gently, carefully, feeling the soft pink skin there, experimenting slowly: when he hears Armie's breathing going faster, he becomes bolder, lapping at the hole and starting sucking at it, alternating his lips and his tongue in a lazy rhythm. Armie muffles a string of blasphemies into the pillow, grunting like a caged bear. The sensation is excruciatingly intense, and after a few minutes he can't take it anymore: he has to bend one knee, lifting his hips to free his cock from the mattress, and start jerking himself to get some relief before having a heart attack right then and there. Timmy keeps sucking and licking mercilessly, until the muscle is slack enough he can slip his index finger inside without finding any resistance. He starts moving the finger, slow first, then a little faster, and Armie screams into the fabric of the pillow.

“Are you alright? Am I hurting you?” Timmy asks, suddenly worried, stopping any movement. Armie tries to catch his breath: this is the chance he was waiting for to make a move, to keep Timmy bound to him.

“I want you to fuck me, please” he begs, panting, his face red like a tomato. Timmy's heart misses a beat.

“Armie, I don't know... are you... are you sure?” Timmy rambles, feeling his own body shiver with arousal, but not wanting to hurt Armie.

“Please” the doctor repeats, meeting the boy's gaze, “That's what I really want”

They stare at each other for some seconds, Timmy waiting for a signal, a hint of regret, something telling him that Armie has changed his mind, but nothing happens: the older man keeps a straight face, then smiles, and it's everything Timmy needs. The boy restores his previous ministration, first using a single finger, then two, scissoring them inside Armie's body, relishing into the feeling of the silky, hot skin. He can't wait to stick his cock inside there: his erection is throbbing painfully, the blood pulsing inside the veins at a crazy speed. It's becoming unbearable.

“Armie, I need to... I need...” he pants, his brain totally frozen.

“Yes” the man just says “Yes, yes, yes”

Is the green light the lad was waiting for: he withdraws his fingers and with a quick, smooth slide he pushes his cock into Armie's ring of muscles, moaning and almost losing his mind at the astonishing sensation. He stops, waiting for Armie to adjust to his presence inside his body; the doctor breathes fast, clenching his hands around the pillow, trying to keep the pain at bay and focus only on the pleasure. After a few moments of awkwardness, he seems to get used to the intrusion, and he experimentally moves his ass towards Timmy.

“Fuuuuuck” the boy whines, and begins moving slowly in and out; their skins slap together, their thighs brush and their balls bounce on each other. Timmy feels the surge of his orgasm raising unrushed and, by the noises Armie produces, the man is in the same conditions. The lad speeds up his thrusts, moaning loudly, whining and shutting his eyes closed, seeing flickering lights behind his eyelids.

“Please, don't stop” Armie begs, but the boy has no intention to do such a thing: he is frantically pounding into the man's bottom, and couldn't stop even if he wanted to. Armie is still jerking himself, and in a few seconds he comes desperately, spurting all over the sheets, screaming and crying out and swearing. Timmy doesn't take long to catch up with him: he comes free and loud, almost savagely, filling Armie with his hot semen, then crashing on the man's back, biting his shoulder, panting and smiling, absolutely spent but happy. Both their skins are damp with sweat, and the smell of sex fills the room.

“That was amazing” Timmy huffs with the tiny energy he has left. He moves, takes his cock back, kneels behind Armie to check on possible damages, then massages his butt-cheeks and his thighs gently. “Are you ok?” he asks when Armie doesn't say a word.

“Mh-mh” Doc just murmurs, apparently too wrecked to even put a full sentence together. He did it, he tied the boy to him; he has Timmy's fluid inside him, and now they are bound together forever. He can't leave the doctor anymore. He will never dump him.

\---

It's a warm afternoon, a few days later, and Armie decides to bring some clothes to the laundromat, since the washing machine at home is broken. Gemma took Archie so he has some spare hours until dinner. He collects everything that needs to be washed in a wide bag, then is about to go out when he thinks to check Timmy's room to see if there is something else to take. He enters the room, which is tidier than usual, now that the boy shares the bed with him in the master bedroom. He picks up some socks and underwear from the floor, gathers a few t-shirts and trousers Timmy usually wears for work, and since he's there he plans to change the sheets and the duvet cover. He opens the drawer when he knows Timmy stores the linen and begins rummaging to find matching sheets and pillows, when he discovers a red notebook: Armie is surprised to find such an item there, and at first he believes it is one of his wife's old notebooks. Maybe it was left there by mistake, they probably missed it when they cleaned the room, the second night Timmy had slept in the house. But why should Timmy keep something that belonged to Yvonne? It would be weird, at least. Armie opens the notebook and skims a few pages, and then immediately realizes that it's not his wife's handwriting. He would have recognized her way of writing, even after all that time. He can't help himself but start reading: there are dates and names, and his heart skips a beat when he finally figures out that what's in his hands is Timmy's diary. He didn't even know the boy kept a diary. He feels guilty for reading it, but now curiosity is eating him alive and he just can't stop himself anymore. There are the chronicles of their first meeting, and Armie smiles because Timmy talks about him as _his mysterious benefactor_ ; there is a very detailed description of their night at the George, and Armie is surprised to discover that Timmy had felt ashamed of himself after the _Never have I ever_ game, because he thought that Armie didn't like him anymore after he knew all those facts about his past. Armie keeps turning the pages quickly, eager to get to read when Timmy had started developing a real attachment to him. He finds the day of their trip to the Cliffs of Moher, and Timmy's words are full of enthusiasm and happiness: Armie smiles. Then, the night of their first kiss is described, and for the first time the doctor spots that word he was longing to find: love.

_I love him so much it physically hurts sometimes,_ Timmy had written, _I wish he could love me too, but I know it's impossible._ Armie's chest aches: he never explicitly told Timmy he loves him, but just because he thought it was obvious and taken for granted.

He goes further through the pages, and while the beginning of their relationship is described as a dream coming true for the boy, with Armie being romantic and protective and everything Timmy had always been searching for in a man, the more Armie keeps reading, the more the tones become dark and gloomy: words like _claustrophobic_ and _suffocating_ attract the doctor's attention, and he has to sit down on the bed in order to not lose his balance.

_I like living with him, but sometimes I feel like a bird in a golden cage: I have everything I suppose to need, and even more, when the only thing I really want is being free to fly away._ Armie's heart is still beating, but it's like somehow it has stopped a while ago. He closes the notebook and sinks his face in his palms, letting desperation overwhelm him completely. He cries, sobbing silently, totally shocked by those revelations: Timmy feels himself trapped in their house, or worse, in their relationship. He feels like a sort of prisoner, not being free to leave as he wished to do. So why does he stay? Why doesn't he just take his stuff and runs away? Maybe the boy was mistaking love with simple gratitude, and now he regretted having allowed Armie to get so close to him, he considered himself being obliged to stay because they had become intimate, they got physical. Armie shakes his head: this is not what he wanted, not what he had planned! He wants Timmy to be happy. He wants Timmy to love him and feel loved by him.

Now that he had read the diary, Armie couldn't go back to their old life anymore: he had to talk to Timmy, to face him, to ask him exactly what he wanted. He couldn't pretend he never read those words.

At late evening, Timmy comes back home: he opens the door, takes off his shoes and walks into the living room. The boy smiles broadly when he sees Armie sit on the couch, but his smile fades immediately when he notices the red notebook in the man's lap. He freezes and his eyes widen in surprise.

“How did you find it?” the boy whispers, struggling to even catch his breath.

“I was looking for clean linen” Armie replies, standing up, shrugging, “Do you need to tell me something, Timmy?” he asks, and his voice is cold and aimed at hurting.

“Did you read it?” Timmy sounds shocked, and his eyes get even wider. “Why did you do this to me?” he starts crying, then he looks angry and pale: “How dare you? It was private!” he leans forward to take the notebook away from Armie's hands, but the man moves faster and leaps on the side, raising his long arm towards the ceiling, knowing perfectly that it will be impossible for Timmy to reach out for his diary like this. “Give it to me! Give it back, Armie” Timmy yells, feeling the anger heat up his blood.

“Why didn't you tell me you were feeling so miserable?” Armie yells back. Timmy wants to slap him in the face or punch him in the guts. “I tried to give you everything, I treated you like a precious gift, but apparently it wasn't enough!” Armie's face flushes red.

“I couldn't tell you because I didn't want to upset you” Timmy confesses, then, “Because I knew you would have reacted exactly like you're doing!”

“Oh well, sorry if I feel a little disconcerted by your lack of honesty and gratitude!” Armie's voice reaches the loudest volume ever. Probably he was heard up to Belfast. Timmy raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, so that's how you feel” he says dryly, “And how should _I_ feel, now that you betrayed my trust so openly?” Timmy accuses the doctor. Armie frowns.

“You could have talked to me instead of writing it down and keep lying to me”

“I never lied to you, Armie! I've never experienced this kind of connection with anyone else before, I didn't know how to manage, it was all too much too soon and I... I was scared” Timmy admits, tears traveling down on his cheeks. He dries his face with the back of his hand, staring at the floor, seeming suddenly younger, smaller and helpless. Armie looks at him and immediately regrets everything: reading the diary, getting mad, yelling at him. He feels horrible, wants to go back in time and leave the notebook on the bottom of the drawer, ignore him, don't pick it up. He tries to hug Timmy, but the boy quickly moves backwards, wincing.

“Please, Timmy, I'm so sorry” he murmurs, desperately seeking for physical contact of any kind, but the more he gets closer, the more Timmy slips away from him.

“I need to go out” the boy announces, heading towards the door, “I need to be alone for a while” he bends to retrieve his shoes from the floor.

“No, please don't!” Armie implores him, following him. “Please don't go, let's talk about it. We can fix it, I promise” he keeps begging him, but the boy is firm and resolute.

“Armie, please, I need to go for a walk. I need to think and I need to be alone to do it” Timmy insists. The doctor leans against the door to prevent the boy to go out.

“It's late, it's dark outside and it's dangerous” he says, “You can go tomorrow. Now please, let's talk a bit, just you and me. Let's fix this little misunderstanding” Armie tries to smile, but what he achieves is a trembling smirk. He is on the verge of tears. He will fall on his knees to stop Timmy from leaving the house, if it's necessary.

“No, Armie, this isn't just a misunderstanding: you read my diary, you spied on me, you broke my trust and I don't know if it will be possible for me to trust you again. Now please let me go” Timmy takes a step forward, but Armie doesn't move a muscle.

“No, you're not going anywhere” the doctor replies.

“You can't hold me hostage, Armie!”

“Want to bet?”

“Armie, seriously, get the fuck out of my way, now”

“Nobody is leaving this house tonight”

“You can't tell me what to do, I'm not your wife!”

Silence. A cold, glacial silence.

And then, it happens.

Time stops for a few seconds, and the next thing Armie knows is that his hand is covered in blood, there is a hole in the wall next to him and a petrified boy is staring at him, pale and shocked. He has just punched the wall. He didn't mean to, he didn't want to, he didn't plan to do it. But still, he did it, and now his knuckles are broken and the blood is staining the white wall red. Timmy hugs himself, walks backwards, his legs shaking. Armie opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound escapes his lips. He watches Timmy running into the kitchen and going out from the window. Then, it's just silence. Armie is paralyzed, his muscles made of stones. He feels like someone has just spilled out a bucket full of ice over his head while he was sleeping. He feels numb, empty, dead.

_He will come back,_ Armie says to himself, _he will wander around for a few hours, and then he will come back here. He has to._

\---

_Emptiness._

Three days later, Armie calls Danny Gorman to ask him if he has some news about Timmy: the man tells him he haven't seen the lad for days now, and Timmy didn't even call to warn him he was going to miss his shifts, so Danny had to find someone else to replace the boy last minute. He was worried, and now that he knew Timmy wasn't home, he was even more concerned. Armie thanks the man and hangs up. He looks around in the house: everything is a mess, there are dirty clothes on the floor and Archie is chewing one of his shoes. Gemma keeps knocking at the door, calling Armie, getting more and more anxious every passing hour. Armie doesn't open, so she has to leave the food (for the man and for the dog) on the mat in front of the door. The phone rings, and Armie runs to pick up, hoping it's Timmy: unfortunately, it's only Lauren who yells at him, asking where the hell has he been and why didn't he call to say he was going to take some days off. Armie hangs up without even say a word.

Two days later, Armie is on the couch when he hears the key turning into the lock: he immediately stands up, his heart bouncing in his chest just like Archie is bouncing behind the door, excited to see someone else for the first time in a week. _He's back_ , Armie thinks, _Timmy is coming back, finally_. The handle moves down and the door is pushed open, and a smiling Jim appears in his shiny pink shirt and white trousers.

“Hey, why are you hiding from the rest of the world? Did you rob a bank or killed someone?” he jokes, but when he peers at Armie's broken hand (which he somehow managed to clumsily wrap into an old bandage), his smile fades. Armie bursts in tears, falling on the floor like a sack of potatoes.

\---

_Emptiness._

He is forced to go back to work after a couple of weeks. He really doesn't want to, but the hospital's director convinced him with a friendly threat about firing him if he didn't show up by the following monday. So Armie had to shave, put on his best fake smile and go back to be useful to the society.

It had taken all Jim's patience and kindness to make Armie recover from his injuries, both the physical and the emotional ones. Danny Gorman had called a few days after to tell Armie that his son Anthony had seen Timmy in the area of Rathmines, going around with some dark boys, probably foreigners: he didn't speak with the lad, but he said that Timmy had looked healthy and well fed to him. Armie had thanked the man, hung up the phone and cried.

His first shift after his little _holiday_ goes slow, but smooth: he is in the office, signing old medical folders, for basically the whole day. When he sees Lauren walking towards him in the hallway, he stops, turns around and throws himself into the first elevator available.

Things slowly seem to go back to normal: Armie wakes up, makes breakfast, walks Archie around the neighbourhood for an hour, then goes to the hospital. Gemma passes by to say hello and check on him and the puppy every day about tea time, and Armie couldn't be more thankful to her. His mother calls him once per week, and their conversations are short and awkward as always. Jim is still is best friend. Lauren is still a pain in his ass. His wife is still dead. Timmy is still missing. Life is unbearable again.

Some weeks later, Armie is leaving the hospital after a long, exhausting night shift: he's in the staff room, wearing his jacket before going out in the chill early morning, when he hears multiple ambulances approaching the building, their sirens loud and noisy. Something has happened, but his shift is over so it's not his problem anymore. He is about to open the door when someone precedes him: Lauren's blonde head peeks inside the room, and she looks at Armie with a strange expression on her face.

“There was a huge fight around Ballsbridge, two groups of lads kicked each other's asses, some of them looks south american or something. Three of them have been stabbed, they are pretty bad, we could use your help out there” she says.

Armie chuckles.

“And why should I care about some idiotic brat dying?”

Lauren's gaze hardens.

“Because you know one of them”.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :(


	10. He's like the wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything pans out :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will stop crying, eventually! This chapter took away that little spark of life I had left T_T  
> Next story will be much more happy and bright, and if you go to the notes at the end of this chap you will find a little poll: I want you to choose the next story!! I'll give you 3 choices (no spoilers, just a quick plot) and it will be YOU to decide which one will come next! And now... enjoy the happy ending :)

Chapter 10: he's like the wind

Armie runs like he had never run before, not even when he was captain of the rugby team in high school. And if there was a reason he was the captain, it was exactly because he could run fast.

He flies outside, in the hospital's forecourt, where there are already four ambulances delivering patients, and at least other two are coming next. Doc scans the boys one by one: most of them only have some scratches on their faces, a sprained wrist, light fractures on their head or a black eye. It clearly was a teenage fight, they blindly punched wherever their fists could reach. Probably a few of them punched someone from their own side by mistake. It's not like you have time to think, when you are in the middle of a fight. Armie knows it very well, he had been a teenager himself, well, a long time ago. From one of the two ambulances on the back, the paramedics take out a stretcher with someone lying on it: that must be one of the three boys who had been stabbed. Armie throws himself towards the vehicle, but when he peers at the person on the stretcher, it's not Timmy: he exhales in relief, but doesn't even have time to check on the boy (he looks fine, though) that the last two ambulances show up into the forecourt, braking noisily on the asphalt, two paramedics jumping out of each side immediately. These two boys must be worse, Doc realizes. He gets quickly closer to the back of the first vehicle and his heart stops when he sees a pair of skulls patterned _Converse_ he knows very well.

“Armie! Armieee!” the boy is screaming his name; the doctor is next to him in a second.

“I'm here, I'm here my love, I'm here” the man says, taking Timmy's shaking hand in his own and kissing the palm: his skin is cold and pale, but he is awake and conscious, and that's good, that's very good. He needs to stay awake until he gets into the O.R.

Timmy is covered in blood, and Armie checks his body to find the source of the bleeding: he lifts his soaked t-shirt and sees the gauze (also soaked already) on his right side, a few inches below his nipple. It's the liver, and Armie shudders with terror: whoever did this, knew exactly where to hit to cause damage.

“I'm sorry, Armie, I'm so sorry” Timmy whines like a mantra several times.

“Shh! No, stop it, you need to save your energy” Armie tells him, never breaking the physical contact, while the paramedics push the stretcher inside the building, checking at his blood pressure and reflexes at the same time.

“Babinski absent!” one of the paramedics shouts out after taking off the boy's shoes and rubbing a pen on the sole of his foot.

“What? What does it mean?” Timmy asks, frightened, his eyes wide and his lips trembling.

“Nothing, just there are no spinal injuries” Armie explains the boy while they wait for an elevator. “It's good, it means you can still walk”

“I'm so sorry, Armie” Timmy starts again, “You were right, I shouldn't have gone, I should have stayed with you” he bursts into tears.

“Stop it, please” Armie begs him, caressing his face, “Let's just get you better now, ok? Then we will talk about everything, I promise” he lays a soft kiss on the tip of the boy's nose, smiling, trying to inspire some courage in him. He honestly doesn't give a single shit about the people looking at them. Let them look if they want! They will never have what Timmy and Armie have: a pure, unconditional love.

The elevator's doors open in front of them, and a doctor and two nurses help Armie push the stretcher in. Surgery department is on the fourth floor, and when they will head there, Armie will be forced to let Timmy go: he will not be able to follow him into the O.R. because he is not a surgeon. He is aware of that, and yet he tries to find a way, a reason why he should be allowed to go inside with the patient. Maybe he could say this is his nephew...

“I'm going to die, Armie, I know it” Timmy whispers, his voice weak just as his heartbeat.

“What? No! No no no” Armie quickly reassures him, gently cupping his cold cheeks with his own warm palms, “Nobody is going to die today, did I make myself clear, Paul?” he says, calling him with his fake name, making him smile.

“Yes, Doc” the boy replies. Then, when the elevator's doors open again and the Surgery wing appears in front of them, Timmy adds: “I heard you and your mother talk that day”, the stretcher gets pushed outside the elevator, “I love you too” he tells Armie, trying to keep the eye contact as long as possible until he can still visualize the man. The nurses and the other doctor take Timmy away towards the hallway, and Armie stays there, still and speechless like an idiot.

An hour and a half later, there are no news from the O.R. Nobody went in or got out, and this is a good sign: if nobody went in, that means they don't need extra help, or more bags of blood for transfusions; if nobody got out yet, well, that means the operation is still going on, which means that Timmy is still _alive._

Armie is sitting on a chair in the waiting room, his head down, hands tangled in his hair, trying to remember how happy they were before that damn day, before he consciously decided to break Timmy's trust and read his diary. Before he screwed up everything. He is so absorbed in his own thoughts he doesn't even acknowledges the presence of someone else in the room, standing in front of him.

“Any news? How was he when they took him in?” Lauren enquires, peering at the closed door of the O.R.

“Like you really give a fuck about him” Armie huffs sarcastically, raising his head to look at her. Lauren's eyebrows almost reach the roof.

“Don't you dare talk to me like this, young man!” she angrily points an accusing finger at him, “My youngest son is his same age. How do you think I feel, knowing that he's in there alone, scared, fighting for his life! And where the fuck are his parents, by the way?” she opens her arms in shock, “What kind of people are them, not even caring if their boy is dead or alive?!” she covers her mouth with a hand, muffling an unexpected sob. The doctor is honestly surprised by her current behavior, especially after what she said at the charity dinner: Armie didn't forgive her, yet. But maybe he could, now. Maybe he could start being a better person after today; if there was one thing all this absurd situation was teaching him, was that grudge and bitterness and rage where only a waste of time, because life is too short and in a moment everything can end.

“I don't know where his parents live, he never told me” Armie informs her, and then they stay in silence for a long moment. Suddenly Lauren seems to have an epiphany:

“Didn't you have that friend in the Garda? The one who was in school with you?” she almost yells, “What was his name? Brian?”

“Alex” Armie corrects her.

“Yes, yes, whatever. Why don't you call him and ask him to find Timmy's parents? He can check the surname in the archive and find an address, and from that one they can try to contact them by phone or going there in person, if they live in Dublin” she suggests, then crosses her arms on her chest, looking very proud of herself. And she should be: this is actually a good idea. Armie nods and stands up.

“I should go to the office to make the phone call, but I don't want to leave, just in case...” he doesn't have the courage to finish the sentence.

“I'll stay here” Lauren offers, sitting down on the chair Armie just left empty, “I'll come to tell you if something happens”

Armie chuckles. “Shouldn't you be working?”

The woman smiles slyly: “I can bully some of the newbies to do the work I should do. That's the amazing thing of being in charge” she snaps her fingers. “Now go. Go go go go!” she verbally kicks him out of the room.

Armie goes downstairs and sits in the office. He picks up the phone and composes a number in the semi-darkness of the room.

“Hello? Doctor Armand Hammer here, from the hospital. Could I talk to officer Alexander Abbott? Yes, it's quite urgent. Thank you.” he waits a few minutes, then he hears a familiar voice on the other side of the receiver. “Alex, hey! How are you? Yeah, same old same old. How are the kids? No way, already in secondary school? Jesus, you make me feel like a dinosaur! Yeah, listen, I need to ask you for a favor: I have a patient here, he is... uhm... young and I need to find his parents. Yes, I have a full name, yes: it's Timothée Cha _melet_? No, sorry, sorry, it's Cha _lamet,_ yes the father is french... how many french people could live in this Country? Certainly not more that a handful. Yes, oh it would be so nice of you! No, of course you can call this number, I will be here, ask to talk with me. Ok, right, thank you so much Alex! Yes, ok, thank you” Armie hangs up, bends his arm on the table and lets his head heavily fall on it, exhaling deeply, taking a few breaths before going back to the fourth floor.

It's only after other two and a half hours than doctor Alfred Kavanagh, the head of Surgery himself, exits the door of the O.R., wiping his hands and forehead, looking tired and pale. Armie and Lauren (who has been there for most of the time) literally jump from their chairs and run in front of the man.

“Oh, Armie” the old doctor says, surprised to see his young colleague there, “Do you know the patient?”

“Yes, I... uhm...” Armie sounds like he is experiencing aphasia. He probably is, since he haven't slept, eaten or drunk in the last twenty hours. He barely peed twice.

“Yes, doctor, we know the boy” Lauren replies fast, “How is he?”

“He will be fine” the man informs them with relief, “We patched him up as best as we could to avoid a possible transplant, but the blade that hit him was very long and sharp, we had to dig very deep to stop the bleeding, and it was a miracle we didn't have to completely remove half of the liver. He will be fine, but he won't be allowed to drink alcohol or eat some kinds of food anymore. He will have a diet he has to follow very strictly, and no cigarettes or other kind of recreational drugs! He will need some hours to wake up from the anesthesia, maybe the whole day” he lifts a finger towards the lady “I hope they get who hit him, because if the blade went even a few millimeters deeper into the flesh, the boy would be dead before reaching the hospital” the old man says with fervor before leaving the waiting room and going to take his well deserved rest.

Lauren turns towards Armie, who is staring at the door of the O.R. with an empty gaze, and puts her hand on his shoulder.

“Did you hear the doctor? He will be fine” she comforts the man. Armie doesn't look at her.

“I didn't say I love him” he murmurs, still staring at the door “He said _I love you_ and I didn't say it back. Why didn't I say it back?” he seems hallucinating. Lauren takes his hand in hers.

“You can tell him when he wakes up. You heard doctor Kav: it will take a while. Let's go get some food and coffee, you need energy” she offers and gently drags Armie away.

\---

“ _Armie?” Timmy calls the man, but there is no answer. He is in a garden, a lovely place he has never seen before. The trees are flourishing with green leaves, fruits and flowers. The sun is blinding and there is a nice breeze. Birds are singing and a small fountain with running water is in front of him. He calls Armie again, but the only noises he can hear are the whistles of the birds and the buzzing of the bees. The boy is confused: where is he and how did he come there? He looks around at the beautiful place; he dips his hands in the cold water of the fountain (which is more like a small pool, now that he got closer) and sighs in pleasure. He wets his face and hair too. Suddenly he feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns around, a bit scared, finding a woman in front of him._

“ _Hi, Timmy” she says, smiling fondly. “I finally meet you”_

_Timmy stares at the young woman for some seconds, trying to remember who she is and where he already saw her: she has big green eyes, long dark hair and a sweet, friendly smile. The boy freezes when he finally realizes she is Yvonne, Armie's wife._

“ _Am I dead?” he asks, eyes wide with terror._

“ _No, you're not dead” she explains him calmly “But you are in a place which is very close to what we call death”_

_Timmy doesn't understand: he shouldn't be there, this is a mistake. He should be at the hospital, receiving medical cares, getting better... why is he there? He quickly looks around, searching for an exit door, a way out, a gate to go back to life. To go back to Armie._

“ _No, no, I can't stay here, I must go back” he replies to her, voice shaking “Armie needs me, I have to tell him things... I was so stupid, I didn't realize how much he loved me! I felt trapped when he was only trying to protect me” he says, sounding desperate and regretful. She puts her hands on his arms, squeezing lightly, holding him in place._

“ _And you will, I promise, you will go back to him” Yvonne assures the boy, and her smile becomes sad. “At least you can”_

_Timmy takes a moment to register her last words, and when he does, he feels mean and selfish and unfair._

“ _Shit, I'm so sorry” he says, frowning, “You must hate me”_

“ _Hate you? Why?” she laughs._

“ _Well, I'm taking Armie away from you” Timmy explains with a small shrug._

“ _No, you're not” she cups his cheeks. “Cancer did”. Her eyes seem to lose the spark and Timmy wants to hug her, but she has something important to ask him before he goes. “Listen to me, I know you love Armie and I know you think you can help him, but you can't! He is struggling with feelings and emotions he doesn't understand, he can't control himself and if he doesn't seek for professional advice soon he will end up hurting himself seriously! Please, promise me you will convince him to see a therapist, he will do it if you urge him. He will do it for you” she nods and smiles again, but her eyes are already shining with unshed tears._

“ _I swear it on my own life, I will” Timmy takes her hands in his own: they are unexpectedly warm and solid. They stare at each other for a while, relishing in the awareness that their love for the same man will keep them bound for eternity. Yvonne will always be a part of Armie's life, of his heart, and Timmy is conscious of it, but he is not jealous or annoyed, quite the opposite, especially now that he met her: now she is a part of his own life, too. She puts a hand on his ribcage, on the right side, and Timmy peers down at his t-shirt: there is blood on it._

“ _Do you know who did this?” Yvonne enquires. The boy shakes his head: he really doesn't know. She smiles and caresses his face. “I can help you remember, if you want”_

“ _I'm scared” he whispers, leaning into the comforting touch._

“ _Don't be. Close your eyes” she invites him. Timmy glances at her for a last moment, trying to memorize her features, then complies._

_\---_

The first thing Timmy sees when he opens his eyes, coming back to life with a loud gasp, is the white ceiling of the hospital room, then a screen with some numbers and lines, then a ventilator machine next to it. He is frantically moving his head left and right, a deep, visceral fear twisting his guts. He senses a pair of hands holding his shoulders against the mattress and tries to focus: he meets Armie's gaze, his blue wonderful eyes, wide and shocked. The man is speaking, but Timmy can't hear him; the only thing he can hear is his own blood rushing into his ears, his temples throbbing painfully. He watches Armie's lips moving, his eyebrows getting closer when he realizes something is wrong. Timmy clutches his hands around the man's forearms and squeezes with all the strength he has left. He isn't sure if his own mouth is producing any sound, but he knows he is speaking under the oxygen mask. His body is restless, and he thinks his lungs could explode any second now. He sees Armie turn his head on the side and talk to someone else, and right after a young nurse is sticking the needle of a syringe into Timmy's bicep. He feels suddenly calm, relaxed, sleepy... last thing he sees is Armie's sweet smile. Then everything goes black again.

\---

“What the hell happened?” Lauren enters Timmy's room and gives Armie a disbelieving look. The doctor shrugs.

“I have no idea. He woke up and he was panting and shaking, like he was in the middle of a panic attack. I couldn't calm him down, so I had to ask Susie to give him a sedative” Armie explains the head nurse. He is pale and tired, but he hasn't left Timmy's bed for a single minute since the boy had been moved from the O.R.

“Go get some rest” Lauren tells him, putting her hand on his shoulder, massaging the contracted muscle, “I'll stay with him”

Armie silently thanks her and after a last glance to the boy he loves, who is now peacefully sleeping under the effect of the sedative, he leaves the room.

He goes to the bathroom, does his business, washes his hands and face, then heads for the cafeteria because his body is desperately screaming _caffeine._ But when he arrives at the reception desk, stranger voices attract his attention:

“My son is somewhere in this building, we received a call from the Garda” a woman is saying loud, “I want to see my son, now!”

Armie peeks into the entrance of the hospital and sees a couple talking to the nurse behind the desk: the man is tall, elegant, grey hair and light blue eyes, keeping his composure and trying to soothe his wife's temper; the woman is small, but she looks like she could tear the whole building down any minute now: her face is showing pain and concern, and yet she still appears beautiful and dignified. Her features are incredibly familiar, and after a few spare seconds of observation, Armie knows exactly who they are.

“Sorry” the doctor starts, getting closer to the couple and clearing his throat, fighting back the embarrassment, “Are you Timmy's parents?”

The lady turns her head towards him immediately, followed by her husband.

“Yes, yes, our son's name is Timmy” she confirms, smiling at Armie, eager to know, “Please can you tell us where he is?”. Her eyes are wide with hope and fear, and her hands are shaking. Her husband has his hands on her shoulders, holding her firmly, and it's almost like she could crumble down if he lets her go. Armie is honestly confused: are these people supposed to be the same cold, heartless parents who kicked their son out of their house because he was gay? They look quite the opposite to him, they look like the best parents ever. Armie doesn't remember his own mother having those eyes when talking about him, or to him, never. He can sense the woman's desperation under his own skin.

“I'm... uhm, I'm doctor Hammer. I am...” Armie tries to put the words together, but then he realizes that maybe they don't give a shit who he is right now, so he goes straight to the point: “Your son is fine, he is alive, he is resting now”

The woman bursts in tears, and her husband hugs her, exhaling loudly, letting all the tension out.

“Thank you, doctor” the tall man addresses Armie with the thickest french accent Doc has ever heard. They awkwardly stare at each other for a moment, then the man stretches his arm towards the doctor: “Sorry, we've been so rude. This is my wife Nicole and I am Marc Chalamet. I'm the French ambassador” he introduces himself, and Armie's jaw falls.

“You are _who_?” he asks, his hand still tangled with the man's one.

“I am the French ambassador in Ireland. Sorry, I know it looks like I'm telling you this because I'm trying to have some kind of... preferential treatment for my son” he apologizes shyly. Armie shakes his head.

“No, no! I know, it's just... Timmy never told me”

Nicole glances at Doc with wide eyes.

“Do you know our son? How?” she squeaks in an high pitched voice.

“We should go talk somewhere else” Armie replies, peering at the room full of people around them. The couple follows Doc into the small private office, and he closes the door to ensure them some privacy. It's time to show all the cards in his hand.

“Your son Timmy and I... he was... he _is_ living with me, we share a home. We are... a couple. We love each other, deeply. I tried to protect him” Armie tells them, focused on keeping an appearance of calm and control, while he is actually freaking out inside.

“Well, you didn't do a great job so far, did you?” Nicole chirps sarcastically, raising her eyebrows. Her husband rubs her back, shaking his head when she gazes at him.

“I beg your pardon, madame?” Armie seems taken aback by that answer. “And what about you two? You kicked him out when he told you he liked boys! He wasn't your little perfect creature anymore then, uh?” he accuses the couple. Marc raises his hand and points at Doc.

“Watch out your words, young man! We never did such a thing” the ambassador defends himself and his wife, a fierce light in his eyes.

“That's what Timmy told you, isn't it?” Nicole realizes, crossing her arms on her chest, looking annoyed. Armie nods in silence. “Of course. Our son has a great talent in telling lies, he always had. We never evicted him: he ran away with a man twice his age when he was seventeen. We weren't bothered by the fact that he liked men; we just didn't want him to date that particular one, and we were right, because he convinced Timmy to run off with him in the middle of the night, and totally cut us out of his life for years! He was nothing but a scoundrel and a tosser!” Nicole yells, her red face showing all the rage she feels inside.

Armie doesn't know what to say. It's like the night they went at the George and played _Never have I ever_ : he doesn't know who Timmy is right now. He doesn't know what is a lie and what is true anymore. Did he lie when he said he loves Armie? Who knows... Armie only knows that he is tired of all these lies and secrets and bullshit. He promises to himself that things will change. Things have to change, if him and Timmy want to have a healthy and truthful relationship.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you” Doc apologizes to the couple, and they nod simultaneously. “If you want to follow me, I will fetch you to your son's room” he says and heads to the exit.

Timmy is still sleeping when his parents enter the little room: his mother caresses his face and kisses him multiple times, while his father squeezes his hand, maybe in an attempt to wake him up. Armie leaves them alone and closes the door.

\---

When Timmy opens his eyes, he doesn't know where he is and panics for a moment. He detects something pressing on his stomach, and when he peeks down, he discovers a blonde head placed on him: Armie has fallen asleep while watching him sleeping. The doctor is sit on a chair on the side of the bed, his head on Timmy's torso, his arms spread out on the lad's body, keeping him prisoner. Timmy smiles with relief; he slowly lifts his hand and tangle his fingers into Armie's fair hair, which is longer than usual. He gently grazes his scalp, a very light touch, until he senses Doc moving. Armie turns his head towards Timmy and grins broadly.

“Hey” he just says.

“Hey” Timmy replies, his movements eased by the fact that he's not wearing the oxygen mask anymore. “I saw your wife” he reveals without thinking. Armie seems surprised for a second, then smiles again.

“What did she say?” he enquires calmly. Timmy passes his fingers on Doc's cheek and jawline.

“That you need to shave” he jokes, and Armie laughs. Timmy feels the stitches on his side becoming itchy and uncomfortable, and he winces under the blanket.

“Are you alright?” Doc gets immediately worried, “Timmy, please, tell me where it hurts” he pinches the boy's wrist with his thumb to check at the heartbeat, but everything seems fine.

“I'm ok, Armie, it's just... nothing” he ensures.

“Why were you so frantic when you woke up earlier? Do you remember?” Doc asks him, caressing his cheek and combing his hair as best as he can on the pillow. Timmy frowns, then focuses for a few seconds, his mind swirling like a blender. His eyes widen with terror all of a sudden, and he squeezes Armie's hand so hard he almost crushes the knuckles.

“Shaun” he only replies, his lips trembling.

“He's not here” Armie informs him, “He didn't come to visit you, yet, but I'm sure he will come as soon as he...”

“No” Timmy stops him abruptly, pulling at his arm, going paler every passing minute. “No, I don't... I don't...” the words get stuck in his throat. Armie frowns.

“Wait, was he at the fight? Was he injured? He is not here, but I could try to call the other hospitals, to check if he's fine” Armie offers, smiling sweetly to try to calm Timmy down, but it's clearly not working because the boy looks even more agitated now.

“No, Armie, don't you understand? He stabbed me! It was him, he stabbed me!” the boy bursts in tears savagely, the veins on his neck almost exploding.

Armie stares at him in silence, totally frozen to the core. The door slums open and Lauren gets inside.

“Is everything alright in here?” she asks, worried by the loud crying of the patient and the immobility of the doctor.

“Lauren, please, call the Garda” Armie murmurs, still not moving, and the woman runs outside towards the office without even blinking.

When Timmy falls back asleep, exhausted by the long crying, Armie takes the elevator, reaches the top floor, goes outside on the roof of the building and screams his life out of his body. He hopes the Garda catches the little bastard, because if they don't, he will personally search every inch of the city and the whole county until he finds him, and when he does, he will make him wish he was never born.

\---

In the next few days, Timmy receives a lot of visits: first of all his parents, who come to the hospital every day, bringing him food, books, sweets, new clothes, even a skateboard, which Timmy appreciates very much. They try to convince the boy to go back home with them, at least during his convalescence, but Timmy is adamant on this subject: he will go home with Armie, if the man still wants him. His parents are quite happy about the fact that Timmy is finally dating a good man, a doctor, someone with a steady job, an income, future prospects... they don't know about Armie's issue with rage, and for the moment Timmy prefers not to talk to them about it, to avoid upset them, especially his mama. He enjoys the warmth of being a son again, after years of solitude and longing.

One day, there is a knock on the door, and when Timmy replies and the handle moves, a tiny brown rocket boosts across the room and jumps on the bed: it's Archie, and the boy is over the moon with happiness when he sees the puppy. Timmy pets him while Archie licks his face, paws at him, moving his short tail with excitement. The door opens wide and Gemma and her husband enter the room, their hands full with flowers and a cake.

“Oh, honey, I've been so worried” the elderly lady cries out, hugging Timmy and kissing his forehead, and a tear falls from her eye. Her husband pats her back and she nods. “I know, I know, I said that I wouldn't cry, but look at him” she cups Timmy's cheeks “He's so pale and thinner than before! We have to get your strength back, dear boy. You and Armie are the ones who will take care of us when we will be old and useless” she laughs and her husband nods in agreement. Apparently, not only Timmy has got his parents back, but he also gained an extra pair of grandparents. Life can be very generous sometimes.

Lauren keeps checking on the boy every time she starts and finishes her shifts, and a few times during the day. She tells Timmy that her husband Danny is more than happy to take him back at the warehouse, when Timmy will be completely healed and ready. Timmy likes her more and more every passing day.

Armie meets the head nurse in the staff room.

“Ooof, I need a coffee” Lauren complains, dropping her substantial bottom on the couch. “Do you mind, luv?” she asks Armie. He rolls his eyes, but obeys. They sip their coffees in silence for a while, sharing the couch, then she looks at the doctor with a smirk.

“You know, I thought that at almost fifty years of age I didn't have anything left to learn, but apparently I was wrong” she says, and he seems surprised to hear her admit it. She is not a woman who apologizes. “To see you taking care of Timmy, just as you did with Yvonne before... I don't know, it all looks so _natural_ now” she shakes her head, glancing at her coffee mug; then she pats Doc's thigh “He will be fine, he's stronger than we think”

Armie nods, well aware of that.

“He is very young. Sometimes I don't even understand what he says to me” the doctor chuckles and Lauren snorts, lightly slapping his arm.

“Ah! Tell me about it: I have five sons, and they all went through his age, talking to me in slang and pretending to listen to me and doing stupid shit hoping to never get caught” she tells him and they both laugh.

“Five sons. Jesus, you and Danny didn't have a television?” Armie jokes, and she smiles, winking.

“We did, but what can I say? _Wheel of fortune_ was a real turn-on for us”

Armie grimaces.

“Ew! I will never watch that show again!” he blurts out and they laugh again.

Jim comes back early from his holiday in Barcelona to stay close to Armie and Timmy.

“It was raining most of the time, anyway” he reassures them, waving his hand. “Although spanish men are quite interesting” he says slyly, making Timmy giggle and Armie roll his eyes (he is actually truly happy that his best friend is starting to open himself up to the world again). When Armie leaves the room to go back to his shift, Jim takes Timmy hand in his own, smiling at him.

“I'm so glad you are better. I can't even imagine what Armie would have done if you...” his voice cracks and his eyes water suddenly. He turns his head towards the wall, fanning his face with his hand. “Sorry, I'm just getting old and emotional” he says, and Timmy pats his arm.

“It's ok, Jim. We should never be ashamed of showing our feelings” the boy comforts him, “And believe me, I had no intention to die. Not now, not in the foreseeable future” he states, and Jim hugs him.

But the most incredible visit Timmy receives, is the one from Armie's mother: he stares at her for a full minute when she enters the room, wearing an expensive silk dress and high heels.

“I'm happy to see you are recovering” she awkwardly tells the lad to try to ease the tension in the room.

“I thought you hated me” Timmy replies dryly. She doesn't sit down.

“Oh, darling, _hate_ is a very strong choice of words, don't you think?” she glances at the window, “And a very unchristian feeling, too”

Timmy frowns.

“If you came here to tell me to leave Armie alone, madame, I must warn you that it was a waste of time: I love him with all my heart, and I will never leave him again” he enounces with a steady voice, sounding sure and self-confident. She smiles.

“Good, so we agree that we both love Armie very much” the lady concludes. She stands in the room for a few more (embarrassing) minutes, then leaves.

“Mum? What are you doing here?” Armie seems utterly surprised when he meets his mother in the hallway. She kisses both his cheeks, as always.

“Darling, I came to see you, I was concerned”

“Why? It's not me who got stabbed” Doc points out, a little harder than he meant to. She sighs.

“I guess I have no other choice but accept this new _situation_ ”

“Yes, thanks mum” Armie replies. He fidgets slightly then, unsure if he should bring this up right now, but he discussed it with Timmy and they agree that this is for Armie's sake. He takes a deep breath, then speaks: “Do you still have the number of that friend of yours, the therapist?”. His mother's eyes shine with joy when she hears those words.

“Of course, darling!” she cups his face with her delicate fingers, almost crying, “Do you want me to call him and book an appointment for you?” she offers.

“Yes, please, it would be very nice of you” Armie replies, grateful. They hug: a short, stiff hug, because they are not used to physical displays of affection, then the lady sighs again.

“You know your father will never accept the boy into our family, don't you?”

“The boy's name is Timmy and yes, I know” Armie states, smiling, “But at least you are on our side”

“Well, that's how the world works now, I suppose” she says with annoyance. Armie chuckles.

“Not the world. Just me”

\---

_One year later_

St Stephen Green park is absolutely gorgeous in summer: the trees are exploding with green leaves, the grass is soft and silky under the feet and the breeze makes walking in the midday sun a little more tolerable.

Armie and Timmy are sit on a bench, hands tangled, eating ice cream while watching Archie rolling in the grass and running frantically back and forth along the garden. They laugh every time he trips and falls.

“I wish summer will never end” Timmy whispers, leaning his forehead on Armie's shoulder. The man kisses the top of the boy's head, his now long curls tickling Doc's nose.

“Are you nervous about starting college?” he inquires, already knowing the answer.

“A little bit” Timmy confirms. “But also excited”

A group of kids, boys and girls, walks past them.

“Sissies!” someone yells from the center of the small crowd, and the other ones laugh.

Armie turns his head towards them and gives them a broad grin.

“I think you meant: excruciatingly happy!” he shouts out, and Timmy giggles. The last two girls in the group turn around to look at them and smile, waving at them.

“We're getting stronger” Armie says then, “It will never be easy, but we can show the world that love has more than one side” he kisses the lad's nose. Timmy nods and smiles.

“Things change. Slowly, but they always change, and for the better” the boy claims.

“Maybe one day we will get married, too” Armie proposes, and they laugh.

“Yeah, sure, and you will learn how to use the computer!” Timmy mocks him, and then kisses Armie before he can fight back.

_And in that moment, Armie feels blessed, wondering how he got so lucky to have such a miracle storming in his life one day and never leaving him since then. He feels blessed because Timmy is there, with him, in his arms._

_His Timmy._

_\---------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHOOSE THE NEXT STORY!!  
> So, these are the 3 options you have to choose from:  
> A- a story set in 1838, in which Armie is a libertine and Timmy is his new object of attention (I promise a little bit of BDSM and no drama)  
> B- a story set in contemporary times, in which Armie is a bureaucrat who gets dumped by his fiancée and Timmy works in a drag queens show, they are both penniless so they end up selling "candies" (yes, it's exactly what you are thinking about)  
> C- a bonus chapter of "Boss with benefits" with the Charmie wedding (someone asked for it, so why not?)  
> LET'S VOOOOOTE!!! (please don't steal my ideas)


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